Happy Hour

“What’s the big idea threatening me like that?”

“It was a joke. Settle down.”

“Some joke. You see anyone laughing? I don’t. Not even a smile.”

“Fine. How about you drop it.”

“Unbelievable.”

The two men stared at their glasses, the rings of condensation on the bar. The bottles against the back wall. The baseball game on the television up in the corner.

“You should watch it.”

“What?”

“Your mouth. You keep talking that way, it’ll get you into trouble.”

“Thanks.”

“What?”

“Thanks for the advice. I mean it. I’ll take it to heart.”

“Asshole.”

The bartender dried a glass.

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