34.

"All right," said Abby, "That's it." And before the pirate could make another move, Abby grabbed the pipe from out of his mouth and threw it onto the floor. For a long moment nothing happened, then the pirate slowly looked down to the smoking pipe lying in its pile of spilled ash. Then he looked back at Abby. The air in the bar seemed to get even thicker with tension.

"Come on," I said to the bartender. "Twenty bucks on the pirate, forty for you if I lose."

"No," the bartender said, and leaned back on the backbar to watch the fight.

"Here I was tryin' to keep from messin' up your pretty face, Mr. Abby," the pirate drawled, almost sadly, taking another draught from his stein. "But then you had to go and do that." Abby was already holding up his fists, eager to fight, but the pirate continued to sip his rum, contemplating the situation.

Then the pirate walked right up to Abby, so close that Abby's fists were against his chest. He glared upward at Abby and said, "You'll be wantin' to go pick that up, I think."

Abby wound up for a haymaker, but it was too late. The pirate's fist tore into the side of Abby's head like a freight train through an unsuspecting bovine. Abby went down, letting out a stream of blood and spittle in his wake. "I'm gonna tell you one more time," said the pirate. "You'll be wantin' to go pick that up." Abby didn't even pick himself up at first, and the bartender looked significantly toward the bouncer, but Abby's body began moving again, and he slowly pulled himself back to his feet. The pirate watched disinterestedly and drained his stein. "Another rum," he muttered to the bartender.

Abby looked around at the other patrons who gazed back at him. "Did you see that," he howled at the crowd. "I'm gonna get you for assualt," he said pointing with one hand, holding his nose with the other.

The pirate cleared his throat. "Yeah," he said, "And yer' gonna get me for murder if you don't pick up that damn pipe!"

Abby didn't say anything for a moment, and the pirate continued to stare at him calmly. "Pick up the pipe," he muttered again.

"Hey Abby," I called. He didn't turn to look at me, but I saw his eyes shift. "Ten bucks says you end up picking up that pipe."

"Fuck you," Abby sneered, "No way in Hell I'm picking up that pipe."

The pirate responded with a long draw from his mug. He set it down, and started walking toward Abby who abruptly recoiled. Abby conceded, "All right. All right." He extended his arm toward the pipe, and crouched down to pick it up. His fingers extended toward it, but at the last moment the pirate's peg leg shot out and knocked the pipe away, sending it sliding across the floor.

"Get your filthy hands off my pipe!" The pirate shouted. Abby stood up again, his face reddening. For a second I thought I still had my ten bucks, but Abby suddenly cocked his arm back charged at the pirate with his fist. He hit the pirate square in the stomach, then looked up to see the pirate's face void of any emotion except for scorn. The pirate connected with a righteous upper cut that nearly sent Abby through a full somersault. With his good leg he stepped on Abby, and with his peg leg stepped over to his pipe. He picked it up and relit it. "I believe you owe this man ten dollars," he said to me.

I sighed and turned back to the bar for another drink, but the bartender was talking to the bouncer. Reluctantly, the bouncer handed over a ten dollar bill to the bartender who put it in his pocket and walked back to me. "Would you like another drink, sir?"

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