“I knew this girl once who could break her own wrist without crying.”
The conversation wasn’t meant to distract his friend – and it didn’t, although onlookers would assume otherwise.
“Really, Pete?” his friend grinned in acknowledgment, taking aim.
CRACK!
The balls scattered, #2 slid into the side pocket.
“You sure she wasn’t just double-jointed?”
Pete leaned against the table behind him, ignoring the players there. He and his opponent were regulars, so nobody would say anything.
“No.”
His friend circled the table, in search of his next shot.
“‘No’ as in – she wasn’t double-jointed, or ‘no’ as in – you’re not sure?”
Shot found. Aim and tap. No soap.
“Oh so close, Danny Boy,” Pete sighed. “So close.”
With a slight nudge, he finished off Danny’s attempted pocket and moved on to the next shot.
“And no, she wasn’t double-jointed. I can tell you that much for sure.”
POP!
The cue ball spun across the table, ricocheting off the #4 ball and meeting #5 on the return.
THUMP! THUMP!
Danny snatched his beer from the bar and took a swig as Pete put another ball away with ease.
“How’s that?”
“Huh?”
“How do you know she wasn’t double-jointed in her wrists?”
THNICK! CLUBUMP!
The #7 ball disappeared.
FUMP!
So did the cue ball.
Danny set his beer back on the bar and examined the table as he replaced the cue ball.
Pete hooked his cue stick behind his neck and stepped back.
“Let’s just say a one-eyed midget told me. Besides, I said ‘wrist’... She only had one.”
Bewildered, Danny retreated from his aim and used his stick as a crutch while he looked at his friend.
“Let me guess...”
“Exactly,” smirked Pete.
Danny shook his head and took aim again.
“That could not have gone well.”
“Yeah. Well, that’s what chainsaws are for, right?”
“Good point.”
CRASH!
Just as Danny pulled back to take his shot, a limp body fell through the ceiling and landed on the table like a rag doll. Pete jumped with surprise, as did everyone in the room, but Danny just stood there frozen, staring at the corpse before him. After a moment of silent shock throughout the room, Danny dropped his stick in frustration.
“Man, that was gonna be a nice shot too!”
Pete saw his opportunity and turned to the stranger on his left, smashing a beer bottle against the man’s face. A nearby marine struck next and pretty soon a good old fashion bar fight was in full swing.
Books on Sale
