Chapter Eleven

It was St Patrick's Day, again. One of BarCat's favorite holidays.

See, there's a game.  BarCat gets to decide on who says the best pickup line.  And the pickup line has to impress The Waitress. That is his criteria. And all these normally sparkling young men who are piss assed drunk, trying to make an impression? They are the victims.  The losers get whatever BarCat decides at the moment is fit punishment for making his favorite Waitress frown.

So he sits, and watches, and listens.


"Hey baby, you make my shamrock shake." 


She frowns, turns, and walks away.

BarCat swishes his tail. The guy is a looser, and as soon as he leaves the bar, he falls in the gutter, face down in a pile of dog shit that someone did not scoop after the poop. He is so drunk he does not realize it till the next morning, when he discovers the foul smell is not his dog, but his pillow cases.


"Come over to my place and I'll show you my Lucky Charms."


Even BarCat frowned at that one as his tail swished around the bar top. So when The Waitress frowned, he already knew what this guy would get.  As soon as he left the bar, he steps into the street and falls down the sewer.  Seems someone removed the grate, as a joke.


"How'd you like to help put the Irish Spring back into me shillelagh?" 


Oh, now BarCat knew that was going to bring out the best in The Waitress.  And she did not disappoint!  Not only did she frown, but she also gave him the finger.


This young man walks out of the bar so drunk that he falls into a dumpster, and when he finally wakes up he is on a garbage barge going out to sea.


"Lassie, it's your ancestral duty to drive the snake out of me pants!"


BarCat's tail is swishing like crazy.  That had to be the worse pickup line of the night.  Sure enough, The Waitress frowns, stuck up her middle finger, and then goes to Pete, who, with the help of cook, promptly escorts the young man, by his collar, up the stairs and out the door.

He is later picked up by the police, and given a ride to the local station.  Drunk and disorderly.  Usually NYPD would put them all in the drunk tank for the night, but this lucky young man is confused with another prisoner and ends up on an all-expense paid, one way trip to Riker's Island, spending the night with some bad ass mothers in lock down, who make the young man their bitch for the night. It's so easy to take advantage of a drunk fool.

Yes, BarCat had an enjoyable evening all around.  And when the tall young man came to pick up his wife at the end of her shift, The Waitress made sure BarCat has a shot glass of good Irish whiskey in front of him before she left that evening.

But, how come BarCat gets to do this every St. Patrick's Day you may ask?  Well, because every smart ass, drunken idiot kid in that bar wishes he could get lucky with The Waitress.  And BarCat makes sure every one of them who is ballsy enough to make the attempt goes out a winner.


Happy St Patrick's Day!

Copyright 2019 Boudica Foster and Tales from the Zodiac Bistro
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