The bar started to fill up with rich local patrons.
One of which had an entourage his name was Reuben.
He towered almost seven feet looking down at everyone.
Not looking down just because he had the height advantage.
He looked down on each one of us on purpose.
His glare a lazer of nausea.
His friends jeering and goading gutless prospect thugs.
They were overbearing, hovering, badgering and bothering us all.
Blond ginger hair nand a grin that said the opposite
A redness to the skin like that of a man rubbed up the wrong way.
Sporting some sort of socially acceptable opinion.
He'd squeezed the best of himself out in boarding school.
What he couldn't achieve in intimidating the whole bar,
his friends finished easily.
On their second beers the volume went up.
How tall the man stood, the bravado the guy transmitted.
Their obtuseness became a sculpture piece under exhibtion light.
That night i checked behind the bar we had enough guns.
We just didn't have a coffin big enough for Reuben.
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