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Leon Beats Me In Pool before/after We were at this bar on a bad side of the town, me and Rob on a Saturday night. Came in to play pool and watch the end of the hockey game at a place called "the Yacht Club", despite its being in no way associated with yachts or water. The people in the bar, the regulars, gravitated towards us as we shot pool. I started out slowly, losing the first two games before going on a tear, losing one, then going on a long stand after that. A drunk, weak willed sort of sot, the type of slim guy who looked afraid of me if I looked at him too long, walked up to the pool table and threw four one hundred dollar bills on the table. "Here, how about that! Wanna' play for that?" he slurred. His friends dissuaded him, and he said he was kidding around. And proceeded to pick up 3 of the 4 one hundred dollar bills. A kid who had gravitated over to us, Jake, (who we found out later, his mother owns the bar) quickly picked up the last hundred dollar bill. I didnt see this, but it became apparent. "I'll buy you guys drinks the rest of the night. Anything you want, its on me." he said quickly to me and rob. "You wanna' drink? You wanna' drink?" "I'm just drinking soda." I said. "ok. that's fine." he summoned the waitress. "Its on me." and he flashed the one hundred dollar bill on the other side of his wallet. "What would you guys do, you'd take it!" he whispered surrepititiously to us. It was a rhetorical question. He was the type of fake-kid who spoke quickly and a lot. You didnt have to say much to be a part of his conversation, which centered around him. A round of drinks showed up, we continued playing pool. The drunk staggered up to the kid, jake, and gave him some dollar bills. Jake looked at him in mock surprise. "You're giving me more money?" he asked. "Put some money in the jukebox." the drunk slurred. And jake did. Later on in the night, he gave Jake more dollar bills for the juke-box. Jake looked at him, "Stop giving me money." A drunk staggered up to the table, and put a fifty-cent peice on the edge of the table. "Its a dollar to play pool." rob said. "A DOLLAR?" the drunk said in exhasperation "a DOLLAR!?' And he went on to have a mock display of disgust, slurring, and related bullshit. We tolerated him. His name was Leon, and he claimed to be a pool-shark of twenty years past. He proceeded to make a sloppy mess of himself. Rob was in the bathroom with him at one time, and came out. "Leon is in there, he's got the squirts." he told me. "You were in there with him?" I asked. "Yeah. It sounded HORRIBLE." I'm still not sure why rob told me that. Leon tried playing some pool, and lost badly. In fact the only other loss of the night was when I played him. Leon cooled me out so badly on one shot, the entire bar started heckling him. Rob turned to a guy that had gravitated towards us. "Shit, my watch has stopped, you got the time?" "No, my watch stopped, too." "The irony is thick, but my watch really stopped." "Mine, too." I waited for at least an hour for Leon to shoot one shot. He paced back and forth, he squatted in front of the shot with the pool cue across his knees, staring at it for an interminable time. It was an impossible shot. I had a ball in front of his and two behind his and the cue ball. There was no way to make it. "I think I can cut it." he'd say periodically. "You've got no shot." I said. "Yeah, but I think I can cut it!" and "What would you do?" "I'd jump the ball over the two and try to sneak it past the guard." "I can't--I can't jump the ball like you guys do." "Then you got no shot." I said. (Bad grammar.) The cat-calls from the crowd were growing. "Shoot it!" they yelled. "We're growing as old as you!" shouted another. Finally he shot, and really just knocked some balls around to no effect. I cleaned up two and then missed a shot. Leon then tried to bank it and play off of one of my balls, but shot it wrong and ended up double-banking it before sinking the shot. "Hey, you didnt call that!" a fat kid called from the crowd. And Leon EXPLODED. His face turned red. He whipped the stick around. "What the fuck! Do you think-! I fuckin' called! GODAMMIT!---" And he went on a tirade. I think he was trying to intimidate me into giving him his shot. Something, I'm not sure. He was over fifty, really drunk, throwing a fit, and was a smaller, softer guy than I was. He raged so much, he drooled. He sat down beside me. I pulled on his jacket, and said in his ear, "Hey, you're listening to the peanut gallery. Its your shot." No pride in beating an old drunk. "Well, WHO'S FUCKING SHOT IS IT?" "I already told you, its yours. Now go shoot." And he did, missing his shot. I cleaned up two more balls, until it was just two of mine and the eight. Leon started heckling me loudly. "ALL EYES ARE ON YOU! WHAT ARE YOU GONNA DO!" I cooly sunk another then missed the last. We pissed around a couple of times until Leon sunk the eight. It made his night. Possibly his week. "You guys are all right." he said, "You guys are all right. You're my friends." And he gave me a hug. Then he gave Rob a hug. Then he and some of the regular barfly's left. We started playing teams with a couple of guys sitting around, and talking shit about Leon. "Its your shot, you son-of-a-Leon." "Oooh. He Leon'd you," I said to rob. "That's low." another guy said. "Come on, Leon, shoot the shot!" "Watch out, or I'll Leon you!" Rob replied, squatting down, staring at the table, the pool cue across his legs. "Dont do that, we dont have that kind of time!" "Yeah, we dont wanna' be here until sun-up, Leon!" We played and beat them squarely. At the end of the night, a man in a tuexedo came in, and had an argument with a guy in a wheelchair. As we walked around to leave, we saw a bride with him, in a full gorgeous bride's dress of white. At two a.m. At a dive-bar. The bride looked at me, kept looking. Every time I would look, she'd look away, then go back to watching me. Dont know what to make of it. I'd say that maybe she recognized me, but I know no one in this city, on this side of town. Never been to this bar in my life. "Who would take their bride to a dive bar at two a.m. on their wedding night?" Rob asked. And I didnt have an answer.
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