5.

Hello readers! Here's one, a sort of "country-western" flavored story, chronicaling one of Jim's many "tough guy" exploits. Takes place in "small town" America, in year 2000.

Max

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Old Western town

"An American Fable"

by

Maxwell G. Truethteller

[Copyright Maxwell G. Truethteller, 2025, all rights reserved]

So Jim walked into "Molly's", a "redneck" bar in a small town Jim went to often to visit family. This evening, a Saturday, in fall of 2000, Jim opened the front door of the bar and strode in--it was cozy: one large room, bar to the right, pool table in the middle with plenty of space around it, nobody playing right then. As usual, he looked around--he was glad to see plenty of folks there. As he watched, he noticed a real good-looking young woman not far in front of him, appearing to be having a good old time, in a crowd of several other people. She was animated, lively, so she attracted attention. Jim was watching her, amazed at her looks, and she noticed him and then went up to him and said something, just the playful kind of banter, just indicating, in all likelihood, that she approved of Mr. Jim Henderson. Just being flirtatious. Jim was so surprised he hardly knew what to say, and just stared at the pretty lady speechless! "What in the world is she up to?!" he wondered. Jim was surprised by her brashness. She was definitely playful, you could say--but good naturedly so (nothing "untoward" there).

"These country women!" Jim said to himself. "They're brash and bold--and they're what's best about America!" Jim decided he'd best make a polite exit, though--lest he get into some kind of trouble--but she was mighty pretty, he thought, and he was plenty flattered that she'd taken a notice of him.

Then Jim turned toward the bar, to go get a beer. There was a guy behind it, seemed to be in charge. When this fellow turned around and saw Jim, he suddenly fixed him with a menacing and hostile stare. "Uh-oh," Jim thought. Seemed somebody didn't like his presence. "Well," Jim thought, "guess I better get ready to rumble--just in case!"

Without wasting a single second, Jim moved quickly and silently--sort of like a cat, the way it deftly moves back a bit and turns, ready to face a possible attacker, and just watches, to see what it will do--toward the pool table behind him, where there was a pool cue lying on it (nobody else around at that time). Ready to grab that cue, if necessary (by the thin end). Interesting thing was, when the guy behind the bar saw this, he seemed to not know what to do at that point, and just stood there befuddled. "Wonder what this fellow's next move will be," Jim said to himself.

Fights--in bars and such--weren't what they'd used to be. You couldn't get away with rough-housing like that anymore--they'd just throw everybody out, regardless of who was in the right, or in the wrong. So battles like this tended to be "covert", mostly--you couldn't do anything that was overtly disruptive, or that damaged property, or that hurt a "non-combattant". So "bar bullies" tended to specialize in stuff they could get away with, that was "sneaky": like accidentally-on-purpose stepping on your toes--or bumping into you (so that you spilled your drink or otherwise were made to look foolish, possibly in front of a lady you were trying to strike up a conversation with). This kind of stuff went on regularly in bars and nightclubs (at least from the 1980's to the early 2000's--maybe right up to the present). Jim realized he'd have to figure out how to counter these tactics, which seemed to get more and more sneaky and treacherous with every year that passed by in post '70's civilization (the '70's being the last time there was any overt fighting or "jousting" of this kind in social gathering places).

So Jim watched this fellow, the bartender at Molly's, to see what he'd do next. Jim thought he was trying to "test" Jim's nerve, was hoping that would "fizzle". So, Jim just continued to stand and watch this individual. In the meantime, alot of the other people in the bar realized a "showdown" was going on (it was kind of obvious--Jim was standing in the very middle of the bar, next to the pool table, all by himself, hand close to the thin end of that pool cue, as he and the guy behind the bar, standing stock still, stared each other down). They weren't quite sure what to do either, and sort of continued on as they had been, undoubtedly wondering how this would turn out--should everybody duck, because chairs, bottles and such were about to fly? as in a traditional American country barroom brawl? I think there was an element of excitement also--everybody wondered if maybe the bully of Molly's country tavern, who'd undoubtedly had everybody around scared, was about to go down!

So for a while, I think everybody was waiting to see who would win this "showdown" in the streets--Jim, the mysterious stranger, who just rode into town, that nobody knew anything about? Or the current "king of the hill", who ruled the town through blood-curdling terror, dire threats of all sorts of punishments, to anyone who dared challenge his "hegemony".

The battle of nerve continued, as the two combattants stared each other down, icily. Who would blink, or flinch, or back down. The excitement, the uncertainty, the wonderment, maybe, of the other folks in the bar, at what was going on, continued. The other people in the bar seemed afraid to look, but definitely knew what was "going down", it seemed to Jim.

"O.K.," Jim said to himself, "I should handle this coolly, so as not to unnecessarily disturb anybody, alarm them, cause any kind of ruckus that I know doesn't need to be caused." Jim had seen a thousand punks like this--he wasn't really worried--knew that thugs like this all used the same tactics, and pretty much all went to the same end. You just sit back, bide your time, play your cards skillfully, and let them destroy themselves.

It was kind of amusing to Mr. Jim, this guy's increasingly odd and desperate attempts to get Jim off his back, so to speak, over the next hour or so, as Jim just kept playing the game, deploying his cards skillfully, and letting this fellow use up his own cards that he had left. The villainous bartender finally, as an apparent last resort, went outside the front door of the tavern and started "chatting up" the police officer who was sitting out there, the bar's on-duty guard and authority (after about the 1980's social spots like this started keeping their own security guards on the premises because altercations and such had been getting so bad--all kinds of violence and mayhem--but unfortunately the bad guys who usually dominated such places just changed their tactics, getting more "sneaky" and covert, the end result being that they continued to rule the roost, and maintain their steely grip of crime and skulduggery on society, showing that ordinary government and law enforcement actions still couldn't get them off everybody's back). It looked to Mr. Jim like this fellow was trying to get the police officer on his side, suggesting that Jim was the problem, was a "troublemaker". So seeing this Jim decided he'd better play it cool for a while and wait and "act normal", and at least appear to forget the whole thing.

By doing this, Jim felt he was undercutting the bartender's gambit. After about 45 minutes, he felt he'd waited long enough and that it was time to make a polite exit from the whole scene (lest he get caught in the bartender's trap), walked right out, past the bartender and the cop on duty (the bartender seemed like he was hoping the cop would save him!), got in his truck and quietly drove off.

About a year later, one day, Jim was at a local grocery store and lunch counter in this same town, right next to Molly's, getting a tasty burger, when all of a sudden this same bartender appeared in the front door. Jim saw him, and he knew exactly who Jim was. He stood there for a minute, trying to decide what to do, then turned around, walked out, without even saying a word.