Bob the Viking

 Sully's brings all kinds out to his bar, and "Bob the Viking" is one of the characters that can be found there on a regular basis. Truth be told, none of are sure if "Bob" is his real name or not. Bob is a bit of a mystery, and seems to like it that way. He's a mountain of a man, well above 6 feet, and at least three bills. Pale blue eyes that give nothing of what he is thinking, if he is thinking anything, away, and blond hair that a super model would be proud of. When asked he says he is from "up north" which for him is quite the speech, and that would be the extent of our knowledge as to Bob's ancestry. Sully has said that Bob told him his 'real' name once, but that it contained a lot of vowels and a lot of syllables and so he just called him "Bob." Bob didn't seem to mind, and didn't bother trying to correct Sully naming of him as Bob the Viking. He answers to Bob, and so it is as Bob that he enters our tale.

Bob always sits on the same stool (which must be reinforced to hold his big ass up), it seems that Sully's is close to having assigned seats. If some newcomer sits in Bob's seat by mistake, and refuses Sully's request to move, then Bob shows up, looms over said newcomer, and suddenly his seat is free. You only have to mistakenly sit in Bob's seat once to get the message. Bob doesn't talk much, or generally at all. Relying on grunts, and facial expressions to get his meaning across. Trust me, when Bob looks at you at certain way, you suddenly remember all sorts of other places you need to be. Your mother's house, a dentist appointment, a facial, a spa day, anywhere but in his way. Not that Bob is a violent fellow, he just sits at the bar, and quietly drinks his pints, content to be let alone, and not to meddle in the affairs of others. Which considering how many "affairs" are conducted at Sully's is no mean achievement. Bob is a walking example of the strong, silent type. Fair play to him, we have too many talkers at Sully's anyway (see David the Liar).  

Once, many years ago, a few of us old heads did see Bob lose his temper, it was not a pretty sight. Sully is not a small man, and since it is his bar, he was the first to try to get Bob to settle down. He woke up a day and a half later very confused, and with his jaw wired shut for six weeks. It took about six of us to "settle" Bob down, that is after he cold cocked Sully. Bob has a slight scar on his left eye from (what I like to think) was a mean right hook of mine, but truth be told he walked right through my punch like it was a mosquito bite. We never figured out what sent Bob into a beserker rage that his Viking ancestors would have been proud of, we were just glad that he wasn't wielding a battle axe at the time. He was at the point of telling me "to make peace with my gods" when the bar stool crashed over the back of his skull, and knocked him out, was swung by a particularly brave bar maid of Sully's. She knocked him out, and said "that's it, I have enough of this shithole. I quit!" She then walked over to the till, and took her wages out of it, and left. Sully was unconscious at the time, and was in no condition to argue with her even if he had wanted to. Bob seemed to have a bit of grudging respect for me after that, I am not sure if it was because the punch hurt him (I doubt that), or that he appreciated the fact that I was stupid/brave enough to throw it at him.  After Bob's "spell" it took several hours for the "survivors" to clean the place up enough to make it worth drinking in again. That is if Sully's has ever been worth drinking in to begin with. It didn't matter that the sole proprietor was carried to his bed to recover, the bar must stay open! 

After that, Bob was as quiet as a church mouse. He just sat on his stool, and drank pint after pint of some foul, bitter beer that the rest of us refused to touch. Unsuspecting first timers would sometimes order it to their cost. It became know as a Bob Special. And the only thing special about it was it was a miracle it didn't kill you at the first sip. Sully told me one day that Bob told him where to get the stuff, and would sometimes go and pick up Sully's order of it, just to make sure that Sully didn't run out of it at an awkward time. I don't think Bob would take to kindly to Sully running out of his favorite libation. One shudders to think of that scenario. Bob even brought his own mug to Sully, and told him to use it, and it only. We all figure it is probably lined with lead to keep the swill from melting it. Sully has never showed us it up close. It holds more than your average pint, but Sully is not inclined to charge Bob more for it.  A broken jaw is a great motivator to keep the peace it seems. In spite of the broken jaw, Bob was the type of customer that Sully enjoyed the most, the paying kind. 

We don't know where Bob got the money to pay for the massive amounts of pints he consumed, and few of us cared to ask. Sully's is a good place to practice the idea of "don't ask, don't tell." Even that bastard Felix was perplexed. Everyone who is a regular at Sully's gets on Felix's radar at some point, and the mysterious Bob was no exception. One day when he was feeling expansive, Felix told me that he had his best men tail Bob when he left the bar. And that Bob always lost them in less than 3 blocks. You'd think something that big would be easy to follow, but Bob seemed to be a master at losing people following him. Felix said that Bob would never take the same route two days in a row, so that Felix's goons didn't even have an idea in which part of the city Bob lived. "He could live 4 blocks from here or 4 miles from here" was Felix's sad statement. He went on to say "he could be a longshoreman, or a ballet dancer for all we know." Though the idea of Bob dancing ballet was akin to thinking about an elephant playing tennis, but Bob wasn't ungraceful in his movements, so I guess anything is possible. 

I even made some gentle inquires myself (being the curious type that I am). I was rewarded with one of the longest conversations I ever had with Bob. One day he motioned me over to the stool beside him, and being as I was in no position to refuse such a request, I plopped down next to him, and gave him a questioning look. Not many people got this close to Bob without a reason, and I had a good idea what my reason was. Bob grunted at me as a way of greeting, and I arched an eyebrow. "I don't speak enough "grunt" to get your point Bob, you're going to have to use your words for a change of pace." He turned those very pale blue eyes on me, and said "I know you've asked that pretty, little blond girl that works for Felix to find out what they know about me, and since she's a little sweet on you (only the gods know why) she tried to find what you were looking for." I nodded, and kept my smart mouth shut for once. I had no desire to go on the Sully liquid diet. He continued "ask your boy Felix what she found, oh and get a less pretty spy next time, the pretty ones stand out too much" and then he waved me off to go upon my merry way.

As mentioned, Bob didn't talk much, seems his philosophy is that if you don't express an opinion, no one can argue with you about your opinion. Probably a sound philosophy in today's troubled times. We are pretty sure that Bob worships the old gods, but ask him about religion, and he would grunt. Ask him about women, and he would grunt "women are trouble." Ask him about the football and he would grunt. Bob did a lot of grunting, and you learned to interpret them. Discussions of politics would garner you another, more dismissive, grunt. Maybe Bob had to talk all day at his job, and by the time he got to Sully's he was just out of words to say. There is a saying that tells us that "we all need something to live for" and maybe that is true for us all. I am not the man to ask that particular question, and certainly neither is Bob. After "knowing" Bob for a considerable amount of time, the conclusion I have reached is that Bob might just live for his pints. Sometimes life is just that simple. We haven't heard the last of Bob the Viking.

 

Mac's Play

 "Hello, Sully, how are tricks?" I asked my sullen barkeep and sometime "friend" as he slid one of his "finest" across the bar towards me. It was a boring Tuesday, and since I was tired of being bored at home, I decided to come to Sully and at least be bored and drunk at the same time. My mistake. Sully cocked an eye at me and replied "tricks are the same GI, you slobs come in here, and moan a lot, drink a lot, and then tip even less. However, David the Liar" he nodded over in the general direction of "my" booth, "is looking for you for some reason. God only knows why anyone would look for you, and I pity him now that he has found you." I followed Sully's eye and noticed David the Liar nervously occupying my booth. When you tell as many lies as David, nervous is your default setting. It pays to sprinkle the occasional truth amongst your lies, that way you can be less nervous. It seems David never learned that lesson, or he just chose to ignore it, and let the dice fly high. "He doesn't look any more nervous than normal" I said inclining my head in David's direction. "But, I am bored, it's Tuesday, and I am not even drunk yet, so I guess I might as well wander over there and see what the bastard wants of me." Sully nodded, grunted, and went back to polishing his glasses, when Sully polishes his glasses it is a sign that his part of the "conversation" has reached its conclusion, and you can fuck right on off. Knowing this, I decided to fuck right on off over to my booth.

I slid into my booth and slid the untouched beer I had got at the bar across to David, knowing that, as per custom, he was fucking broke. David the Liar is always fucking broke. "Hello, David. How's the lying business treating you. Still telling elderly widows they are the light of your life, and convincing them to put you in their wills? Or charming bored housewives out of a large part of their husband who doesn't love them anymore salaries?" David glanced up from his (free) beer, and that's when I noticed that the bastard appeared to have been crying. "Christ, David are you fucking crying? Here, in Sully's? Do you want a beating? They beat people in here for showing that kind of weakness on general principle. I'll be lucky not to take a beating just for sitting across from you. For the love of fuck, pull it together. It's a boring Tuesday, but I don't want to liven it up by getting taken out back and having my ribs used as a xylophone by some masher that saw you crying" He sniffled a little more, wiped his eyes, and muttered "sorry GI, but it's been a rough couple of days." I nodded "it's been a rough year or so David, for all of us, but have the decency to cry in private, or if you have to do it publicly find a bathroom stall where you can close the door at least. Anyway what is the rumpus that has you crying like a schoolgirl on a boring Tuesday?"

"It's Mac, no one has seen him in four days, and I am very worried something untoward has happened to him. I'm even more worried that what has happened to him might happen to me, depending on what it was that happened." I nodded Mac and David were "special" friends, and he was probably right to be concerned on both counts. I said "Mac the Knife?" He hated that nickname but, it fit him perfectly he was very fond of knives, saying that knifing a man was the "more polite way to do things, you have to get up close to him, it shows you care, that you want to get all up close and personal with them. Guns are for people afraid to get their hands dirty (or bloody)." David nodded yes Mac the Knife, you know him, and you know what me and him are all about. I did, and do. David was the Liar, and Mac was the thief. It was a lovely combination, spreading two of the world's greatest sins out over two people instead of concentrating it into one complete bastard. This way you had two half bastards that weren't completely beyond redemption, or at least that was their theory. Mac and David had some very odd theories, and it was generally best not to explore them too deeply, lest you end up in a line up with them being asked none too politely to "turn to the left, now turn to the right."

"I know this is a silly question, but have you asked Felix or his goons if they have seen Mac?" He snorted "that is a very silly question GI, you know we don't all have the cat/cat relationship that you and Felix have, to the rest of us, Felix is the cat, and we are the mice. I don't know what you "have on" Felix that has him suffering to keep you alive, and not locked in a cage where you belong, but the rest of us try to give Felix, and his goons, as wide a berth as possible." I laughed "fair enough David, but not much in this town happens without Felix knowing about it, doing it, or have it done on his behalf. It was just an idea to solve your little mystery and to get your crying ass out of my hair. I said I was bored, but this isn't the entertainment I had planned, if you catch my drift." He nodded, and follow my glance at the newest of Sully's blond barmaids. "I get it GI, you have your amusements, and they are generally all that matters to you, but to us humans, which I am not sure you are one, there are more important things than a roll in the hay with the new help." I had the decency to look hurt "now David that was unkind, she's a lovely lass, and a lot smarter than she looks." He laughed "by the looks of her, I would hope so, but I doubt it's her mind that has you here drinking beer on a Tuesday. But, can we focus for a bit on Mac? He wasn't your buddy I know, but you two seemed to get along well enough, or at least as well as anyone can get along with you."

"Mac didn't hold a special place in my heart, no." He winced at my use of the past tense, but I figured that David had already spun out a scenario  in which the worst news was the only news he was likely to get. "What was Mac the Knife up to the last time you had dealings with him?" "He was doing a tail job on some woman for a doubting Thomas of a husband." I winced "a good way to find yourself in more trouble than you need. I am sure the husband already knew the wife had declared their relationship to be "open" before he hired Mac?" David nodded "seems right, I think hubby just wanted to know who the fellow was, not if he existed, he had sorted the existence part out already. Mac said that the husband just wanted to know "if he knew the bastard that was two timing him with his wife, or if it was a stranger. I guess it made some sort of difference to him. I don't pretend to know why." 

Mac was good at tailing people, even though I had told him it was going to end in tears one day, he persisted saying "a girl's got to pay the rent GI, and I like to play the ponies on occasion, and I like to eat even more often." Fair enough I guess. Mac's skill was that he was as grey as a mouse. If you spent five whole minutes looking at him, and were to be asked an hour later to describe him, you probably would be the despair of the officer asking you the question. Tall? Maybe medium height, maybe a bit on the short side. Fat? No, I don't think so, too thin perhaps? Eyes, yes he had two of them, but I've no idea what colour they were. Hair? a shade of blond? brown? not red at least. Mac was just there like the coat rack in the corner that no one pays any attention to, even when they are putting their coats on it daily.  For all my dislike of the way "he paid the rent" it was difficult not to like Mac. He was a personable fellow that didn't talk to much, and unlike his partner, he told the truth at least half the time. The trick was figuring out which half, but for those of us who pay attention (and I do pay attention) he had a tic that allowed us to know when he was lying. I doubt he had any idea, and I was never going to clue him into it. Turns out I wouldn't have the chance anyway. I knew this, and now it seemed that I was to have the "pleasure" of telling his best mate David the Liar.

I sighed, "four days usually isn't that bad of a sign on a domestic tail is it? Maybe the paramour took the wife out of town for a long weekend "to visit her sick auntie" and Mac decided to stay an extra day to enjoy the location attractions?" David shook his head. "No he told me when he left that he would be back that night, or the next morning at the latest." I guess there was no way around it, David was just a bit too upset to notice the "let it lie" signs I was giving him. "Okay, David here's the scene, they found Mac yesterday in an alley off of Water Street with a one bullet in his brain, or at least that is what they are saying. They are also saying it was suicide, claiming some note existed that no one has yet to produce, and that is the end of Mac the Knife." He looked stunned and stammered "b.b.but Mac didn't have any truck with GUNS, he's Mac the fucking Knife for the love of fuck! There is no way he would off himself at all, and certainly not with a gun. He could barely stand looking at them, and certainly wouldn't use one to kill himself." I put up a hand "settle down David there is a real need for you not to shout, look around the room." He stopped, and took a look noticing the fellow that I had already pegged as an "outpost" a large, hairy fellow that was straight out of central casting from the "goon who likes to break things" section.

 I said, "his knives were missing, didn't have a single blade on him, or so they say. I find that odd because we all know that Mac the Knife didn't even go take a piss without a blade somewhere on his person." David nodded "this is wrong GI, wrong, wrong, wrong. Who did he piss off? Was the boy toy someone he didn't need to be following? Do you have any idea about this? Now would be a good time to tell me." I shook my head "no, David I don't have any idea, and even if I did, now would be the worst time to tell you ever. I just have the barest of details, and I doubt that I will get any more." He nodded, finished his pint, and left muttering that drinking alone was probably his best choice for the nonce. I paid his bill, and started my walk home. I didn't have it in me to tell him that besides the bullet in his brain, Mac had another one in his heart. I am no expert on suicide,but two bullets are rarely used especially in those two places, but as the saying goes lie to a liar for they are his coin.

 

 

David the Liar

 It's a quarter to 2 a.m. in Sully's and last call is being bellowed out by Tomas the barkeep. No sign of Sully or his new, pretty barmaid, but the denizens of his place are past caring where they are. The few male patrons are looking blearily around the bar hoping to find that "last call queen" that they can take home and find solace with before the sun ruins it all. Hoping to find someone who will believe late night truths before they turn into early morning lies. I am sitting in my usual spot, alone for a blessed change, no idiot has disturbed my thoughts, and it looks like I am going to be able to stagger home and find my solace in more drink. I should have known better than to hope such a silly thing, but hope springs eternal. 

"Hello GI, what's the rumpus?" he said as he slid into the booth opposite me. I looked up and sighed. "Hello, David, what brings you over here at this hour?" He glanced at his watch, "sorry about the hour, but we both know that "last call" doesn't apply to you, and generally to whomever you're drinking with, and I could use a couple of more drinks." I nodded my assent, and walked to the bar to order us both a drink, because I knew that as always David was fucking broke. David is always, always fucking broke. 

We call him "David the Liar." He's a short fellow with thinning hair that he likes to keep on the long side, hoping (I guess) that length will make up for lack of substance, and sometimes I wonder if maybe he's right, and I am not talking about hair. Either way, David is not his real name, he used several before he decided on David. Muttering something about it meaning "friend" and how he is everyone's friend. Make no mistake David is not your friend, David has one friend in the world, David, and even then the bond is not that strong. If he could find a way to sell himself out, and profit and live, I am pretty sure he would do it. Luckily for the world, David isn't nearly as clever as he thinks. He claims, depending on to whom he is talking to, to be from the north, the west, or back east. It varies from day to day, and from person to person. He explained the system of what direction to use to me once, but I wasn't really paying attention, and plus he lies all the time, so why bother remembering it? Besides, if you every called him out on his lies, he would just spin a larger lie to explain it, and if you kept calling him out by the time the story was over David was the Czar of all of Russia, and was doing you a favor by telling you the "truth."

David does have one thing going for him. He has some startling green eyes, like emeralds they shine out of his mostly forgettable face, and they have drawn many a person into trusting his tales. I knew that behind those lovely green orbs, he had the loyalty of a cat. He seemed to have more than his share of luck with the ladies, so maybe he was a lion in the bedroom, I mean pretty eyes can only take you so far right? Other than those eyes, David was pretty nondescript, you wouldn't pick him out of a lineup (a fair amount of people have tried), and you wouldn't be dazzled by his wit. He's clever, not as clever as he thinks mind, but he mostly hides that. After all he would say "no one wants to talk to someone that is more clever than they are." Therefore, you wouldn't mind sharing things with David the Liar because you'd never think it would come back to bite you on the ass later, you would be wrong. He doesn't introduce himself as "David the Liar" and by the time you figure it out, it might be Felix time. 

Once you had the misfortune to get to know him, David would come bother you with all sorts of nonsense if he thought it could make him some coin, or get him a few drinks. I had conducted a lot of "business" with David. He didn't know it but I had it all written down, and stored in a very safe location, just in case I needed it. Lie to a liar for they are his coin, but keep copious notes just to be on the safe side.  Memory (or so they say) sometimes fails us, but a well written copy of the proceedings can make the difference between your bed, and a bed at the "Felix Arms."  The benefit of David the Liar was that you knew he was lying, if he was talking, he was lying. If he told the sky was blue, you should walk outside and verify it. Lying came as natural to him as breathing underwater comes to a fish. His true talent lay in lying by omission. You had to pay careful attention to his lies, not for what he was saying, but for what he was leaving out. He was a craftsman at omitting details, and facts that would change the entire complexion of a story. You had to be on your toes when he decided to regale you with the "facts as he knows them" (a favorite saying of his).  Don't get me wrong, David the Liar could lie in every way known to man, and maybe a couple that have yet to be discovered. He was not a one trick pony. He is a very, very tricky bastard. 

I was far from the only person that David the Liar conducted his "business" with and I knew it. He knew that I knew it as well, but he would always try to convince me that whatever lie he was spinning at the moment it was just for me, and no one else. Of course, I knew that he was telling whatever other person/people the same lie about the lie, and I put no stock in that little disclaimer. Again, if David was talking, David was lying. I had on many occasions sworn to myself to just stop listening/talking to him, but he would always come back with some lie that had just enough truth mingled in with it, that I would buy him a drink, and listen to it in the hopes that something in the stew of shit he was pedaling would be a carrot of truth. I was usually disappointed, David the Liar is very disappointing though he doesn't realize it. David didn't know it (yet) but I knew his real name, I knew where he was actually from, and I knew that half of the jobs he'd claimed to have had, and half of the experiences he related to his marks were actually lifted from the life of someone he once knew. I also knew what had happened to that "special" someone, but I wasn't about to share all this information with David the Liar. It might sour our relationship beyond repair, and I wasn't ready to do that, at least not yet. I had a use for David the Liar.

I slid back into the booth, and pushed his drink towards him. "So, David what is the story tonight?" He gulped his drink, and looked up "No story, just the facts as I know them." I rolled my eyes "Christ David it's nearly 2 in the fucking morning, let's cut to the chase shall we, I've got plans tomorrow." He laughed "I know you've plans, and I know who they are with, and you might want to change them considering the facts." "OK David what are the facts." I asked hoping to shorten the length of his lie. "Well GI" he said smugly "it's 2 a.m. and do you know where she is?" He put up a hand to forestall my speaking, "don't give me the unattached pronoun speech, you and I both know who "she" is, and don't pretend otherwise." I knew who he meant, but was surprised by his knowledge maybe David the Liar had better sources that I had thought. "OK David, where is she, and who are they with?" He proceeded to tell me, and I began to laugh. "David, my lad for a second there I thought you had better sources than I had thought. You once again disappoint me, my 'friend'. I've known that for hours, I know the who, I know the where, and I even know the why." He arched an eyebrow at the last part, and I smiled "the why is for the oldest reason in the world." I motioned him to lean in closer, and decided to get my money's worth. I whispered to him "I know your real name is ______, and I know it means "paid for." Now you can figure out the why can't you?" With that I got up, left enough money for the drinks I had bought him, and a couple more besides, and walked out leaving David the Liar very perplexed. Happy April Fools' Day you mugs.