The Bar Fight

Alex burst through the front door of the apartment. "Hurry up, Sam! We're going to miss our table!"

Sam threw on a pair of decent shoes, and dashed down the stairs. "Alright! Alright! Let's go!"

Alex looked at Sam. "You really should dress better, you know, people might think less of you."

Sam just shot Alex a look that could road kill off asphalt. "You tell me how to dress, yet here you stand looking like a monkey in cardboard shirt."

Alex started laughing. "A monkey in a cardboard shirt? That doesn't make any sense!!"

Sam laughed also and said, "Yeah, how you're dressed doesn't make much sense, either. So the image I painted should put what you're wearing into perspective."

Alex said, "Yeah, and what perspective is that one?"

Sam said, "From where I'm standing, a screwed up one!"

Both of them scrambled out the door laughing, and headed up the road to the bar they always frequented. It wasn't a high end place by any means, but neither was it a forgotten hole in the wall with a regular clientele that included the lowest of the low. A straight laced, middle-of-the-road kind of place, the bar was a place called Stan's - which everyone presumed was named after the owner named Stan or Stanley, although no-one in the place had ever heard of anyone named Stan.

Sam and Alex were having a great time, shooting pool, and just talking and hanging out, and even managed to win a few rounds of beers from others at the bar. Guys, girls, whoever, they'd just play for the fun of it, and didn't really ever go to Stan's to cruise for dates. They went because you could talk to people at a bar without developing any real expectations of the other person. The people you met there either wanted to hang out for a little while, a one-night stand, or just to whip on you at the pool table and shark you out of some money.

Alex and Sam had one simple rule about bars: Never, NEVER, date anyone you meet in a bar. Do whatever you want for an evening - but no lasting stuff ever comes from a bar. They both felt the same way about long-lasting stuff. Real people are found in a church or a library, or a college - not in bars.

So when five guys walk in and proceed to take over a table and order a pitcher of beer, it's obvious to Sam and Alex what they're in the bar for. They want to get drunk, and probably fight. Alex was the first to speak up about it.

"Well Sam, how long do you think it will take before they want to play a game of pool?" Alex asked.

"Only slightly less long than it would take them to want to fight." Sam replied sarcastically.

"Yeah, they look like trouble. Who's working the door tonight? They shouldn't have let them in."

"I agree."

As the evening wore on, it became apparent that both of them were right about their opinions of the guys. Well, at least two of them were there to fight. The five of them looked like military, but you never could be sure.

The big one seemed decent enough, and the short one, also. But three of them, just seemed to be steeped in testosterone and spoiling for a fight. After about 4 beers each in the first hour they were there, the three were getting loud and boisterous. Alex looked at her watch.

"Sam, it's eleven thirty. Are you sure that Dana was coming?"

"Yes, Alex, Dana is coming. She doesn't get off work until shortly after eleven, so it's only just now time for her to get here, and that's if she took stuff to change into with her to work."

The door man at the bar was a big guy. He was a decent guy, and no-one had ever seen him get angry. It was one of the things that made Stan's an easy choice for a hangout. He was big enough to back up the idea that you weren't getting in, if he said you weren't. He also lacked the fiery temper of a small guy who needed to prove his authority. It made Dennis the perfect choice for a door man. It also helped that he was extremely smart. He never actually checked ID cards. He only did that for the first two weeks he worked here. He then took half his first paycheck and bought a scanner that checked ID cards for him.

It meant if he scanned your ID and said you weren't getting in, that settled it. The only thing that scanner didn't scan was passports. So Dennis got the owner to allow him to refuse to accept passports for ID. It kept everyone at the bar safe - kept the owner safe from undercover cops, kept Dennis from having smart-aleck kids second guess him, right down to the bar-backs that stocked the bar every night, who were rendered immune from the bribes of underagers who knew the bartender wouldn't serve them. Unfortunately, the only thing that scanner couldn't do was check backgrounds. Otherwise, two of the five who were now stewing to a boil could not have gotten in.

The two rose out of their places on the table and made their way to that most necessary of rooms in the back of the bar. After a few short minutes, in a sort of practiced ambush, the two appeared at the table where Sam and Alex were playing a round of pool.

At the door, Dennis scanned a couple of ID's and let the guys who offered them in. The scanner was great, Dennis thought, if only because he could connect it to his laptop, turn on the laptop, connect to the internet, and download an actual fake ID definition file. If anyone was caught making fake ID's, how they faked them was added to the database, and the scanner could actually detect who made the fake ID's. Thanks to the scanner, a couple of guys who were already in jail on charges of making ID's were actually charged with more counts of making fake ID's because it had picked up a fake ID, recognized from the definition file who made the ID, and reported it using automated software back to the government site that held the information. Thanks to a rewrite of a couple of laws, both the presenter of the fake ID and the maker of the ID could now be charged.

The two guys walked in, and set themselves at the bar.

This was unfortunate. The cast of players was already set in place. Two late-comers who just wanted a beer or two. Two guys with records and three of their friends who could back them up. Two at the pool table waiting on a friend. The only thing needed was a small conversation that didn't turn out the way the two ex-cons wanted, and a girl.

Dana walked in right on cue. Hot, blonde, and known for her ability to drink. Actually, she was more known for her willingness to drink. Her ability always seemed to be in question, based on how much she drank before she arrived at Stan's.

Dana made her way to the pool table where she knew she would find Sam and Alex playing pool. The two ex-cons were standing there and all four of them had pool cues. They were almost finished with a game of 8-ball, and it was Sam and Alex versus the two cons.

"Hey Alex," Dana said, and threw a hug around Alex's neck. "How was your day?"

"Not bad, Dana." Alex shot a look back at Dana that said a little too much. One of the cons caught it.

"Hey! Look, finally got us someone who wants something." He made his way towards Dana, who accepted a hug from him. This was a mistake, because he made sure to get a free feel off of Dana.

Dana, who was dressed in a skirt that was a little too short to be accepting hugs from men she'd just met, shot the guy down without mercy. "You really shouldn't grab girls who are just being nice."

"Oh," he said, "So you're just being nice?"

"Yep. But not to you, not anymore." Dana said flatly.

Now Alex and Sam took notice of this. The stage was set, all the pieces were in place, and what was a good night was about to quickly depart into history, replaced by a night that a lot of people at Stan's would talk about for some time to come.

Dana turned to walk away. "Alex, Sam, when you finish, we're outta here." And with that, Dana walked away, towards the bar.

Now the second guy spoke up: "So, the blonde chic tells you two what to do?"

This spun Alex up a bit, who said "She's our friend, so that settles it." The cue in Alex's hand landed on the table and Alex turned to go. "Game's off, you're done."

Sam followed Alex's lead. A second cue stick landed on the pool table, scattering what remained of the game.

"So!" said the first guy, "that means you lose. So you owe us for the game!"

Sam laughed and turned to walk away. The con grabbed Sam's arm.

The two newcomers at the bar, next to Dana, saw it happen, and jumped up, and started towards the pool table. The three at the table jumped up, and interposed themselves between their two friends, Sam and Alex, and Dana and the two new guys.

Sam never did like to be touched, much less grabbed. For the first con, his evening was over quickly. The fist Sam threw wasn't so bad. The con dodged it, and reeled back to throw a punch. It was the left elbow that was following the right fist that connected firmly with the bottom of the con's chin.

The con actually left his feet. It looked more impressive than it was. If his legs had not flown out in front of him, he'd have only been about three inches in the air. But since his feet flew up to the height of his waist, it looked like Sam had blown him backwards with nothing less than an Atomic Elbow.

The second con saw his buddy's feet clear the top of the pool table as he flew backwards. He jumped on top of the table, to reach Sam more quickly. But he tried to stand up, so he could throw a kick. Sam recovered from the thrown elbow, and with an open palm, threw a solid blow right at the second con's right knee just as the con shifted his weight to it. The second con was still sideways to Sam, so the blow landed solidly, and the open palm of Sam's hand carried all the energy and power that Sam could muster, and delivered it all right into that load-bearing knee joint. The knee could actually be felt and heard giving in to the blow, and the energy of the throw carried Sam right under the second con, who was now rolling over without his legs underneath him. On top of Sam. His roll pinned Sam down on top of the table. But the fight was over for these two. The knee had been pushed far too much, and cartilage had been damaged. The second con just grabbed his broken knee in pain and landed on Sam without trying. His momentum carried him right on over, to the floor behind the pool table.

Behind Sam, Stan's erupted into chaos. The two guys at the bar made their way right up to the three who were trying to get to Sam and their buddies. Alex stood in the way. The first of the other three just picked up Alex in a bear hug, and Alex, fearless even though the guy was one hundred pounds heavier, just threw a massive head -butt right onto the guy's nose. His nose made a crunchy noise, and he let go of Alex to grab his nose. Alex threw a kick right into the guy's chest, which blasted him back onto the second of the three friends just as the two from the bar reached them from behind.

The result was a massive collision of five guys, none of whom liked each other, with the resultant pushing and shoving. Dennis arrived from the front door at that instant. The other bouncer from the back of the store made his presence known, and the bartender walked out from her place behind the bar with her favorite baseball bat in hand.

It was actually Dana who restored order. "HEY!" Dana yelled "FIGHT'S OVER!" She never even looked at the five guys who were trying to mix it up a bit. The five guys looked around, and the two cons could be seen on the floor, one lying motionless, and the other on his back, holding his right knee.

Dennis looked at the three friends of the two cons. "You guys want to take your pals with you when you leave?"

"That wasn't our fight, man, "the biggest one replied.

"No? Well, those two are your friends, and they're leaving. So you are too. Sam! You okay?"

"I'm fine, Dennis," Sam replied. "There were only two of them."

Dennis laughed. "You guys just don't realize who you were dealing with. Get your buds and hit the road."

The three guys did as they were told, two of them gathering up their pals while the fifth man actually went to the bar and paid the tab for the five of them. Dennis noticed, and met him at the bar.

"That's classy, that you paid." Dennis handed him a book of matches with the Bar's logo on it. He scribbled a number on it. "Use this if you ever need a cabbie or something. You and your two pals are welcome back here anytime - but the two on the floor are not, get it?"

The guy accepted the pack of matches. "Thanks. Dennis, right?" Dennis nodded and the guy left without much more fanfare.

The two newcomers at the bar were left in a small vacuum as everything cleared out from around them. Dana broke up their isolation by walking up to them.

"You guys really are nice for jumping in to help Sam and Alex like that. Sam! Alex! Come meet these two!"

Sam and Alex joined Dana and the two guys at the chairs by the bar.

The short one looked at Sam. "I've never seen a fight end so quickly before."

Sam just looked at him. "I know how to take care of myself."

"Well," said the short one, "I must say I'm impressed that you can fight like that."

"You could have been more impressive, you know." Sam replied.

"Oh, how's that?" the short one replied.

"For starters, you could have assumed that a girl at a bar would know how to fight," Sam said.

Sam looked at Dana and Alex. "Let's get out of here," she said.

The second guy spoke up: "Hey, Sam, is your name short for Samantha?"

"It is," she replied, "the same way Alex is short for Alexandra."

With that, the three girls walked out of the bar, and left the two newcomers in the company of the bartender, Stephanie.

"Well, I tried to keep her interest." said the second one.

"What the hell was Sam's problem?" the short one asked the bartender.

"I'll tell you, but there's something I need to know first," Stephanie said.

"What's that?" the short one asked.

"What do you do for living?" asked Stephanie.

"I am a rescue diver. My name's Zim."

"Well Zim, I've seen Sam pick up guys here sometimes as much as three in a week."

"Okay, so what are you sayin' about Sam, that she's a slut or something? " asked Zim.

"No. I can tell you've never been in here before. Sam has a rule: She doesn't look for dateable material here. So if she rejects you here, she's sending you a strong message."

"And what message could that be?" Zim asked.

Zim's friend spoke up. "Idiot, she's trying to tell you Sam likes you."

"I couldn't have said it better myself. I like your friend," Stephanie said. "Is he single?"

Zim's friend spoke up. "Not anymore. Call me Flex."

"You know if you tell her I said that, she'll kill me," said Stephanie.

"After seeing that fight, I don't doubt it."

"Barkeep!" said Flex, "we need beer! My friend needs something to drown his frustration in!"

The two settled down at the bar, one with a new girlfriend, the other with a new hope.