Discworld and Member Articles
|
|
|
Written by TheJackal
Saturday, 27 August 2005 |
In stark contrast to five minutes ago, the tavern was now positively packed. It seemed alive amid the buzz that filled the air.
Drunks were singing, or at least, attempting to sing, about something or another. You couldn’t really tell with all of the slurring going on. They were definitely happy about something though. Nemoy himself could not decide if they were ecstatic about who had won the fight, or were simply happy that the bar was once again open for business. He decided it was probably a combination of both, but if a winner had to be declared, then he’d vote on alcohol every time.
It took Nemoy nearly ten minutes to push and squeeze himself through the large crowd to get near the counter. In doing this, he inadvertently bumped into the kind of person you should never bump into. On reflex, Nemoy turned round to say sorry.
‘SORRY?’ shouted the man, who was quite clearly outraged.
Nemoy looked up at the guy he had bumped into, but quickly wished he hadn’t. The man stood over six and a half feet tall, had arms wide as tree trunks, and the look of a guy who had spent his whole life picking on the little man. This so far happened to include almost everyone he had ever met.
‘Oh no,’ thought Nemoy to himself. He was definitely in trouble because the guy obviously wasn’t going to let it go.
‘You think it’s okay to bump inna me an’ spill half o’ my pint, do yah?’ accused Nemoy’s aggressor.
‘No,’ replied Nemoy quickly. ‘It was an accident.’
‘I knows it was a naccident ‘cause nobody never bumps inna me on purpose.’
This proclamation was somewhat inaccurate. There had been the occasional situation where someone, usually under the wonderful influence of alcohol, had intentionally drawn the attention of the, as yet, still unnamed aggressor. However, the fact remained that the inebriated individuals in question quickly wished they hadn’t gone to the pub that night, but rather had stayed home with the wife and kids.
It would probably be more accurate to say that no-one, sober or drunk, ever attempted to draw the thug’s attention twice.*
Nemoy could tell straight away that this guy was neither the most learned nor verbally sound individual he had ever met, yet this newly found knowledge utterly failed to fill Nemoy with any sort of comfort whatsoever. He also knew there was no reasoning with someone whom already knew and believed your version of events, but simply didn’t care about it.
‘You see,’ continued the would-be assailant, ‘I ‘ave a reputation to keep. An’ if I ‘ave loads of wanks thinkin’ that they can bump inna me whens ever they feels like it, then that wouldn’t be a good ting.’
Nemoy knew the guy was going to say something like that. He prepared himself for a knuckle sandwich.
It never came. After a few seconds, feeling slightly foolish, Nemoy re-opened his eyes.
‘Why don’t you punch him Ice-Man?’ asked one of his gang.
‘Yeh,’ interpolated another. ‘Knock him out cold.’
The gang member in question seemed to think it was tremendously funny that he had made a connection between ‘Ice-Man’ and ‘cold’. Others joined in when they had worked it out. Ice-Man, however, hadn’t. He was still gazing intently at Nemoy.
It should be noted that having somebody stare at you can be quite unnerving in any given situation. In this case, where someone you regard as being extremely scary, stares at you for two minutes straight, it is a highly uncomforting experience.
Finally, the aggressor, aka Ice-Man, stopped staring at Nemoy.
‘ere, do I know you from somewheres?’ asked Ice-Man thoughtfully.
‘I’m not sure. Define “somewhere”,’ came Nemoy’s reply.
‘Well, ‘ave you been ‘ere before?’
‘Yes, I was here around a week ago actually. Maybe you saw me then?’
This piece of information resulted in a look of fear on Ice’s face. He now looked seriously worried about something. Ice-Man decided to ask another question, so as to second the motion of fear that was being put forward in his head.
‘You didn’t ‘appen to ‘ave been inna big fight ‘ere, were you? enquired Ice-Man cautiously.
It took a moment for Nemoy to work out what Ice had said due to the lack of Hs.
‘Well yes, now that you come to mention it, I was.’
With that short statement, the motion of fear in Ice-Man’s head seemed to have been rejected in favour of a new motion of all-out terror. Mr. Ice-Man ran out of the tavern with a rather surprising turn of speed. We never found out if the motion had been officially passed or not, but based on how fast he vacated the vicinity, it is generally accepted that the motion was carried unanimously.
‘What the hell happened there?’ asked Nemoy to the world in general. He was very puzzled, yet relieved at the same time.
‘That guy was the one who stabbed you in the back last week,’ replied a stranger to Nemoy’s left.
‘Oh,’ said Nemoy. ‘That would explain things I suppose.’
Nemoy looked at the informant. Although what he saw wasn’t too aesthetically pleasing, it was a whole lot better to what Nemoy had been faced with a minute previously. Also, the guy wasn’t (or at least, didn’t seem to be) intent on killing him. For the moment anyway.
‘So, who are you then?’ asked Nemoy.
‘The name’s Boggs. Jim Boggs.’
‘Hello, Mr. Boggs. I’m Nemoy. I think I’ve seen you before.’
‘Yes, you would have. I’m the owner of this here establishment.’
Nemoy looked around at the dark, dank, smoke infested, urine-smelling pit of despair that was the tavern’s interior.
‘Er…I like what you’ve done with the place.’
_________
* Some had learned their lesson; others simply weren’t around anymore to learn any.
 |
|
|
Subscribe to this comment's feed