Things have been so quiet down at Billy Bronco’s you can almost hear the blue turf grow.
Kevan was behind the bar doing what he could to keep interest alive, but Billy Bronco’s hasn’t been this quiet sense the Nevada loss or the Northwest Mortician’s Casket, Hearse, and Embalming Convention in 03.
Louie was at the bar and has been nursing the same Guinness for three days. It’s about as tasty as warm mug of spit. He was just itching to say something outrageous and set everybody on their ear.
“Okay,” Louie piped up, “whose gonna be the first Bronco to come out?”
“Man!” Blue said. “Everybody knows D-Law came out early. He had another year of eligibility.” Blue headed for the restroom. “Hold that thought. I’ll be right back.”
“No, no,” Louie said. “Like out of the closet.”
“Let’s have that discussion when it happens,” KC said.
“I got a better idea,” Sailor Sam said, “Let’s not even discuss it if it does come up.”
Nobody was in the mood to mix it up.
“I heard Boise State ordered rainbow Astroturf ,“ Louie said, “and it will be installed during the summer. Every ten yards will be a different color of the rainbow.”
“Will you stop with the coming-out stuff,” Sailor Sam said. “It ain’t got no traction here. We just don’t care.”
“Hey, it‘s what I heard,” Louie said.
“And where did you here that?” KC said.
Louie squirmed in his seat and sipped his warm Guinness.
“Well,” Blue said. “Answer the man.”
“I made it up,” Louie said. “I just wanted to start a dialogue.”
“Conversations start naturally,” Broadway said. “They don’t have to be forced. You can’t go making up crap and expect people to take you seriously. Before long nobody will believe anything you say. Haven’t you ever heard about the fable of the little boy who cried wolf.”
It got deathly quiet.
“You guys wanna here a story?” Louie said.
There was a collective “NO!”
Louie continued as if everyone was waiting with bated breath. “I was pumping gas at a Jackson’s. Guess who pulls into the handicapped spot in a big hurry?”
KC rolled his eyes. “Chris Petersen.”
“Close,” Louie said.
“Steve Georgiou,” Sailor Sam said. “Now, there, if I buy you a beer will you shut up?”
“Well I’m not telling,” Louie said.
Kevan sat a Guinness in front of Louie. “Now, tell us.”
Louie was about to latch hold of the Guinness shaking like a BSU field kicker down by two with 3 ticks remaining. Kevan pulled it away. “Tell us who you saw going into Jackson’s”
“It was Kellen Moore,” Louie said.
There was a collective groan and Kevan pulled the beer beyond Louie’s grasp. “I’m pouring this down the drain.”
“No!” Louie said. “I got it all on my phone.” He pulled out his cell phone, reached across the bar, and showed it to Kevan.”
“That’s a guy taking dump,” Kevan said and passes the phone around. “His hand is over his face. We can’t tell who it is.
Everyone agreed with Kevan.
“Look here’s the story,” Louie said. “I was pumping gas. Moore drives up like he’s chased by a blitzing safety. He gets out of the car and runs into Jackson’s. I count to five and go in after him. I held my phone under the commode door and snapped the picture.”
“That ain’t him,” Blue said.
“If it is him,” Sailor Sam said. “That’s voyeurism.”
“No it isn’t,” Louie said. “It’s photo journalism.”
“That’s paparazzi,” KC said.
Everyone ordered up and the discussion ensued.
Louie leaned over to Broadway. “Is that how you start a discussion? Sailor Sam said it starts natural.”
Broadway smiled. “Who is the picture really of?”
“It’s me,” Louie said.
“Why did you take a picture of yourself taking a dump at Jackson’s?” Broadway said.
“It wasn’t taken at Jackson’s,” Louie said. “It was taken here about 15 minutes ago. My wife called and accused me of hanging out with the lowlifes at Billy Bronco’s. I snapped a selfie and told her I was at Jackson’s and had sushi today and it didn’t settle well.”
“That’s disgusting,” Broadway said.
“What’s disgusting is things like this starts conversations and guys drink to it,” Louie said.
“Won’t your wife smell beer on your breath?” Broadway said.
“The natural carbonation settles the stomach,” Louie said.
“That’s not true,” Sailor Sam interrupted.
“Then come up with something better,” Louie said.
“I got it!” KC said. “My dog hangs his head out the window with his mouth open when I drive. He’s got good breath after that.”
Blue came back from the restroom. “How did we get from D-Law coming out to doggie breath in one pit stop? And by the way, who wrote Jackson’s above the commode?”