Guns and Red Wine

What appeared to be an unpaid parking ticket blew across his boot as he entered the tavern. Jack glanced through the dim light as he pushed the door shut against the evening wind.

“What’ll it be?” the bartender asked as Jack approached the worn wooden bench.

Jack placed his gun on the bar, the barrel pointing at the mirrored backsplash of the old watering hole, “Something dark. Whatever’s on tap is good, my buccaneer friend.”

The bartender handed Jack his beer, “Good turnout tonight,” he commented.

“Sure is,” Jack replied.

He turned his back to the bar and surveyed the room; he was looking for a cop that he had arranged to meet here. And a princess.

He picked up his gun and strolled to the back of the room where the pool tables and pinballs were being well used by what looked like creatures from a distant planet. The pinballs were flashing brighter than a Vegas slot machine as the insect-like beings slammed and screamed at the flying silver orb while it dipped and rolled through the contraptions hills and valleys.

He turned at the sound of the familiar voice and saw her approaching with two glasses and a bottle of wine in hand.

“Hey Cinderella,” he smiled and kissed her.

“Skywalker, you’re late, I was worried.”

“Where’s your brother?”

The hand holding the wine glasses moved towards her shoulder, “He’s back there, trying to convince Sonny and Cher that he really is as smart as Sherlock Holmes.”

Jack laughed, taking the wine bottle and pouring his wife a glass, “Well, good luck to him. I just saw Columbo walk by; he might give him a run for his money.”

“Well if all else fails, you can save him Skywalker.” She lifted her glass in a toast, “Happy Halloween.”