[This is Part 2 of 4 in Pirates!: The Bunby Bungle. If you’re interested then please read Part 1 first.]
The Tawnies had a problem. The word had got out. There were two pirates sitting at the bar drinking straight rum. And these pirates had been drinking rum for eight hours straight. The bar had been hoping that eventually they would get drunk enough to go home. But that hadn’t happened. Now they seemed like they were moving in.
“Shall we go to the tables?”
“Sir,” the barkeep was still on duty out of fear rather than anything more noble.
“No Sir can’t.”
“Sir now are we?”
The barkeep, looked upset, “I was just asked.”
“Yes. The only bet I’m laying tonight is that I won’t bet. If I lose I lose, but if I win then I pay out a piece to this gentleman from keeping me from trouble.”
“You should be beyond such tricks with the staff. You know your destiny is to die at the table. So why do you deny yourself so? You shouldn’t deny your destiny.”
“No. I suppose not Bunby. But on the other hand if I am to die at the table as has been suggested I thought it best to avoid as a pastime.”
“You can avoid all you like. But you know all that will happen is that you won’t have played and enjoyed for years. You’ll just have drunk yourself into a self-hating hole, and then while perfectly innocently walking past a bookies one day fall dead over the table. If it is fated it is foolish to avoid it.”
“You have a point.”
“You’re damn right I have a point. Here’s two pieces,” Bunby through two pieces at the man behind the bar and took Marshal by the shoulder. “Now we play.”
They walked over to the nearest table. The table was full but their presence was enough to suggest simply to some of the players that it would be safest to cash in their chips and leave. Once they sat down they were dealt in quickly and efficiently but clearly that wasn’t enough for Bunby.
“Check or bet?”
Bunby looked at the dealer like he was talking a foreign language. “I can’t decide that,” he screamed, what do you expect of me? Barkeep! Barkeep!”
The bartender limped over, looking very worried at the situation. He seemed more worried to approach Marshall who he knew he had let down.
“Barkeep!” shouted Bunby, “I think this guy is trying to gip us. I can’t be expected to play straight sober. I think he’s trying to dry us out on purpose. You need to keep me and my friend here suitably drunk. Suitably! Do you understand? If we end up sobering our game will be lost. And currently we have no drink. Do you understand? We need to be drunk here otherwise this man will quite naturally cheat us out of all of our hard earned money.”
The bartender made to move away.
“Hold up,” Marshall said. “There is another thing.”
“Another thing.” Bunby assured.
“There is another thing?” The bartender seemed less sure.
“It’s of a private matter,” Marshall said.
“It’s perfectly valid, and I feel it too.” said Bunby. He’d clearly been here before.
“I only,” said Marshall, “can bet well if I’m properly stiff. Half mast isn’t enough anymore. I simply can’t do it. So get me your finest women. Get me them, one for me and one for Bunby here. I want to have two one for each. We can’t have relations, we can’t Bunby, but we must have them here for the sharpening of the senses they provide. So we will pay them for that not the other.”
Drinks arrived seconds later. And after two minutes the finest women of the establishment arrived. They were excited to be there too. A client who would pay without sex. A big difference. That’s why they were the best. One of them had literally unmounted, been swapped out for another girl, because of the unusualness of the situation.
It was that excitement that he thrived on. It was almost like a real date, much more than the sex his wife would give him freely that night.
Tune back next week for Part 3 of 4.