(no subject)
The front door opens, and through it walks an old man who may or may not look familiar. To many, however, the annoyed drawl with which he calls over his shoulder is unmistakable.
"... dammit, woman! I'm seventy-six years old, and if I don't feel like chokin' down those horse pills today, guess what? I don't gotta!" He slams the door behind him... and only then takes a look at his surroundings.
"Well, I'll be damned. Didn't think I'd lay eyes on this place again."
Ladies and gentlemen, James Ford is back for one last round.
He walks over to the bar, the sudden spring in his step belying his age. "Hey, babycakes. How's about a Jack and Coke, for old times sake?" Instead of a drink, however, a copy of a certain notice appears.
"Damn." He glances up at the sizable debt still listed on his tab. "Double damn."
Grumbling, James fishes out his pocket, pulls out a rather large roll of cash (James never did trust banks), and lays it on the bar. "Here. Happy now?" As the money vanishes, he looks over at his tab again... and notices that, while very small, it still isn't quite cleared. "Dammit, that's all I got on me!"
If a bar could give disbelieving looks, it would be now.
"Fine. I hope you choke on it." James unclasps a gold watch from his wrist and lays it where the money had been. On the back of the watch is engraved the words "To Lt. Jackson, the best damn cop on the beat. From your friends in the 13th Precinct." Old habits die hard.
The watch vanishes, clearing the tab, and a Jack and Coke appears.
"Thanks," the old man grumbles as walks over to his old booth.
"... dammit, woman! I'm seventy-six years old, and if I don't feel like chokin' down those horse pills today, guess what? I don't gotta!" He slams the door behind him... and only then takes a look at his surroundings.
"Well, I'll be damned. Didn't think I'd lay eyes on this place again."
Ladies and gentlemen, James Ford is back for one last round.
He walks over to the bar, the sudden spring in his step belying his age. "Hey, babycakes. How's about a Jack and Coke, for old times sake?" Instead of a drink, however, a copy of a certain notice appears.
"Damn." He glances up at the sizable debt still listed on his tab. "Double damn."
Grumbling, James fishes out his pocket, pulls out a rather large roll of cash (James never did trust banks), and lays it on the bar. "Here. Happy now?" As the money vanishes, he looks over at his tab again... and notices that, while very small, it still isn't quite cleared. "Dammit, that's all I got on me!"
If a bar could give disbelieving looks, it would be now.
"Fine. I hope you choke on it." James unclasps a gold watch from his wrist and lays it where the money had been. On the back of the watch is engraved the words "To Lt. Jackson, the best damn cop on the beat. From your friends in the 13th Precinct." Old habits die hard.
The watch vanishes, clearing the tab, and a Jack and Coke appears.
"Thanks," the old man grumbles as walks over to his old booth.