Liars Write Fiction

How big and how many lies can I tell in this post? Typically, I write the truth about my life and embellish the truth with opinion. Sometimes the opinion proves to be accurate; sometimes it is not, when it is not it is a lie. With that in mind let me tell a story about my Friday night without a date night. I had spent the day by myself trying to make it productive but failing miserably. By 4:30 I was hungry and put together a supper consisting of a frozen pizza. Two nights ago I opened a thin crust sausage pizza, and decided not to let it go to waste. To stay KETO I cut the pizza in half while still frozen. Therefore, I had half of a pizza still frozen. Not wanting to cook anything special I took the easy way out. It was perfect, but here I was at six p.m. dishes done and nothing to do. I read a few chapters of a book I borrowed from the library and decided that Friday night is date night and I should not be reading a book. For me it turns out to be Friday night without a date night. Take a walk, I said to myself. It’ll be the second walk of the day, but it is free, easy, and in the dark no one will know I am walking.

The downtown area pulls me toward it nine times out of ten, and it did again. Instead of walking the sidewalks I stuck my neck out and walked the street defying drivers to miss me as they passed by. I made it to town without injury and had to decide which tavern to settle in. My latest favorite is the bowling alley. It was open. I climbed the twenty-six stairs and strolled into a crowded bar. I spotted Sam a friend, and headed toward him. He in turn walked me to the bar and introduced me to some of his acquaintances there. The people were totally friendly and made space for me to sit with them at the bar. Needless to say there was no social distancing being practiced here unless you wanted to stand away from the bar. I chose the dangerous one, and sat. A State Farm agent Ken introduced me to his wife and four of their friends. We hit if off right away. He noticed my baseball cap and said “thank You for your Service.” The hat is dark blue with an American Flag embroidered on it. Across the flag is an eagle. Many people mistake it for a service corps hat. “I was never in the service,” I told him, but I am a patriot. “That’s okay” he said “what would you like to drink?”

Mari the bar owner was tending, and took my order for a Coors light. It’s one of the beers I will occasionally drink because it is low in carbs, almost KETO I lied to myself. The conversation drifted towards people we know and then toward the election results. Election results have become the most popular topic of the week. I didn’t really want to discuss the possibility of a new president, I thanked him for the beer, excused myself and walked back to Sam who I met on the way in. He was also engaged in discussing the election, so I reversed and went back to the bar.

Ken had drifted to the end of the bar and gave his seat to his wife. She was worth getting to know. A hottie about forty, five foot eight, fabulous legs, torso, and boobs. She also had a nice face. To stay cool on her walk to the bar she wore shorts and a tank top which is why I noticed her shapely legs. Her name is Anne with an “e” at the end. She told me how grateful she was to have their business in Tinley Park a neighboring town. During the shutdown they were super helpful to us by sending business our way. She told me she graduated from Tinley Park High School. “Oh,” I said “I worked right across the street from you. That is the high school no one knows about. Most times kids will tell me they graduated from Sandburg or Andrews, but rarely do they mention Tinley.”

“I loved it there,” she said.

“Why?” I asked.

“Because it was so private being surrounded by forest preserves and there were no local hangouts for the kids to congregate at. We all got on a bus and went home, no time for shenanigans.”

I leaned in close to her face to hear her better, and just as Anne and I were getting into each other’s history, I got bumped pretty hard from the back. I turned to see who it was, and got punched in the face by a stranger. My reaction was to swivel and unload a fist full of knuckles into his jaw. He was more caught off guard than I was. He spun around falling to the floor. “Fight, fight,” Is all I heard as I lunged at him on the floor and straddled his body. I started pummeling him about the head when someone grabbed me from the back and yanked me off. His face was pretty bloody and people were helping him to get up too.

“What was that all about?” I asked him.

“I can’t stand it when an old geezer like you is hitting on my best friend’s wife.”

“Well, I can’t stand being cold cocked for nothing.”

Frankfort’s finest men in blue arrived on the scene and restrained us with hand-cuffs. Officer Darrien walked me to a squad car. A paramedic attended to my attacker’s bleeding nose before he too was locked into a squad. Eventually, we were both arrested for causing a public disturbance and transported to jail.

In the morning, I was allowed to make my phone call. I called my daughter since I didn’t know any lawyers who could help me get out. In the meantime, I served time in the solitude of a cell crowded with drunks and addicts. Interesting people, all of them. Each had a story to tell. By far I was the oldest in the lot.

“Hello Joanie, this is Dad. I’m in jail, you have to help get me out of here.”

“WHAT? WHERE? WHY?”

“Frankfort, by the high school. I was arrested for fighting in a bar.”

“Fighting, about what?”

“A guy punched me in the face for nothing, and I defended myself”

“John and I will be there as quick as we can.”

It was noon Saturday before my Friday night without a date night finally ended.

Believe it or not.

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