Two Guys Walk into a Bar

"Hey, Mitch."

The owner of the Leaping Toady gave Destry a sour look, popped the top off a longneck and placed the bottle on the bar.

“Thanks. One of these days I’m gonna feel like ordering something different – maybe a tequila shot. You still gonna to charge me for the beer?”

Mitch grunted and turned away from the bar. Destry grinned. As the corporate pilot for the owner of a hockey team, he traveled to exotic places, ate in fancy restaurants and met famous people, but his favorite place was the seedy, hole-in-the wall bar. He’d attempted to draw Mitch into a conversation for years, but the taciturn bartender resisted all overtures with indifference and weary disdain. His back turned, Mitch fiddled with something out of sight behind the bar while Destry watched.

In his sixties, Mitch’s thinning hair might have once been auburn, but had faded to the same rust smudges circling the drain of an abandoned bathtub in a landfill. He wore it pulled back in a straggly ponytail tied with a rubber band. A dingy wifebeater showcased wiry arms, perfect for lifting kegs. Twin panther tattoos roamed in and out of the deep wrinkles on his leathery shoulders.

The door to the bar opened. The man who entered slid onto the barstool next to Destry and said, “Thanks for coming.”

“No problem, bro. Val’s book club is meeting at our house tonight. They kicked me out when I suggested David Wong’s John Dies at the End as their next book. So, what’s this deep shit you’re in with the delicate petal?”

“Would you stop making fun of her name? It pisses Daisy off and you of all people should be a bit more sensitive about unusual names.”

Destry Rides Again had been their father’s favorite movie. Made in the thirties, the classic Western starred Jimmy Stewart as a sheriff who saves a town from a corrupt land baron. Standard fare for a western, but being named after a hero while still in the womb didn’t ensure transfer of the character’s sterling qualities. Ten years younger, Ben grew up worshipping his brother. Jock, prankster, smartass, and critic of other unlikely names. That was Destry.

“I can understand the desire to name her Daisy before she popped out of her mother’s lady parts, but when Scandinavian parents have a baby with curly black hair, they should name her Violet and the father should demand a paternity test.”

Ben ignored him. The last time he won an argument with Destry he’d been four. Technically, they hadn’t been arguing as Destry had been asleep on the living room couch. Ben thought braining Destry in the forehead with the same baseball bat his older brother used to hit home runs was the ultimate in post-toddler hero worship.

Destry still bore the scar above his right eyebrow. His wife loved that story and sometimes at night in bed she’d trace the scar with her fingertip and ask if he’d like a matching one. This usually occurred after Destry committed some heinous crime like the time he showed up at the house with a psychotic ferret whose wealthy owner had become bored with it.

“I don’t know why I bother coming to you with a serious problem. You’re never serious about anything,” Ben said.

For the first time since Ben walked into the bar, Destry looked closely at his brother’s face. Ben’s brown eyes glinted with unshed tears.

“Hey, man. I’m sorry. Tell me.”

Ben took a swig of beer. “I’ve done the worst thing a husband could ever do to his wife.”

“You beat her?”

“Of course not.”

“Cheated on her?”

“I would never do that. I love Daisy.”

“Then unless you killed her, I can’t think of what you might have done that could be so terrible.”

“Really? How about recording over the only copy of our wedding video?”

“Uh-oh. Yeah, I can see how that would be worse than killing her.” Destry rapped Ben on the head with his knuckles. “How did that happen?”

“Daisy left town this morning to visit her sister in Beaumont. She’ll be back Monday. It’s the first time I’ve been alone since we got married. I planned on grading papers, but had a few beers and got on the Internet instead.”

“You’re shitting me. You didn’t record porn over your wedding video?”

“I did. I’m such an asshole!”

“Why the fuck would your wedding video be on a rewritable disk? That’s insane.”

“Daisy’s crazy old Aunt Jessica offered to record the wedding for us. If you remember, it was a pretty low-budget affair. She probably recorded over one of her disks featuring all those yapping poodles of hers. How was I to know?”

“How indeed? The concept of checking the disk out before you recorded over it never occurred to you?”

“I was drunk, damnit! I wasn’t thinking.”

“Yeah, I suspect all the blood rushed out of your brain and straight to Big Ben. What kind was it?”

Ben looked confused. “What kind was what?”

“The porn. What kind?”

Ben looked over at Mitch who stood wiping down the far end of the bar, then leaned in to whisper in his brother’s ear.

Destry laughed, punched Ben on the shoulder and raised his other hand for a high-five.

“It’s not funny. Daisy will probably want a divorce when she finds out.”

“Whoa. You’re not going to tell her.”

“Of course I am. We love each other and a marriage has to be based on complete honesty and trust.”

“Who the fuck told you that?”

“Daisy.”

“You always were a sweet kid, Ben, but I never figured you to be a complete moron. Destroy the disk. Break it into a million little pieces and toss each piece in a different dumpster. When she wonders where it is, act innocent. Lie like a politician running for office. Lie like your marriage depends on it. Because I’m telling you it does.”

“But…”

“No buts. You think you’ve done the worst thing in the history of marriage. You haven’t been married a year yet. Val and I had been married five years and I did something much worse.”

“What?”

“I’ve never told anyone this. You need to hear it and then never, ever bring it up again. I mean it.”

Intrigued, Ben said, “Have I ever narked you out?”

“More times than I can remember, but I’m going to trust you’ll take this secret to your grave. Even then, you still better keep your mouth shut.

“After Val and I got married she always dragged me shopping with her. I cooled my heels in countless department stores while she tried on what seemed like every goddamn dress and pair of shoes ever made. I loathed it, but I loved her, so I went and tried to put on a happy face.

“One day as I wandered around a few aisles from where Val was having a retail orgasm over some purse, I noticed a plainclothes security guard lurking about. The woman lacked subtlety and I imagined shoplifters meeting over drinks to laugh about her. A manager carrying a clipboard stopped to talk to her and boredom overcame my good sense.

“I walked over and excused myself for interrupting. I told them I hated to be a snitch, but hated dishonest people even more. I pointed three aisles over to Val and said I’d seen her slip some lingerie under her coat. The security guard lumbered off after my wife. I hung about for a while and eventually the woman disappeared. I cruised out into the mall in search of a cup of coffee.

“As Val exited the store, I started to wave to get her attention. At that moment the security guard and manager approached Val and started talking. She became agitated, raised her voice and waved her hands around. Val always talks with her hands when she gets excited. The security guard grabbed her and slapped handcuffs on her wrists. I ducked back into the coffee shop, cowering. I knew if either she or the store employees saw me, the police would be finding my body parts scattered all over town.

“They dragged Val off and I came up with a plan to prevent an expensive divorce. I called her cell and left a message that I was going out to the car to wait on her and that I might take a nap. She should meet me there.

“Forty minutes later she left the mall and stalked to the car. I pretended to be asleep. She pounded on the window so hard I’m surprised the safety glass didn’t shatter. She seethed all the way home. When they discovered she didn’t have any stolen merchandise on her, they apologized and explained why they had stopped her. The things she said she’d do to the anonymous tipster weren’t pleasant.

“She rampaged through her closet and tossed all the lingerie she’d bought from that store. To this day, if anyone mentions the store name, she begins cursing. I barely managed to talk her out of suing. If I told her what really happened, do you think we’d still be married?”

“Probably not. That was a really shitty thing to do, Destry. At least my fuck-up was an accident and I still think I should tell Daisy what I did.”

Mitch approached with a beer and placed it in front of Destry.

“This is on the house. I’ve owned this place for 27 years and that’s the best story I’ve ever heard.”

He turned to Ben and said, “Son, you listen to your brother because he’s right as rain. And I have one other piece of advice for you about trust, honesty and true love.”

“What’s that?”

“Never archive porn.”