Serving the people who serve us

“Cowboy Bob Dunnigan—‘Buckaroo’ to his friends—walked into the bar with a chainsaw and a shotgun. The chainsaw he laid across the bar top. ‘Um, what’s going on, Buckaroo?’ I asked. ‘I’m tired of waiting on the money your boss owes me. You and your customers get in the back room,’ he said. Now, I didn’t think Bob was going to hurt us, but you don’t argue with a man wielding a shotgun—or a chainsaw, for that matter. Bob herded us into that back room and locked the door. We heard the chainsaw start and it sounded like he was tearing the place apart. After a while the chainsaw shut off and we heard him talking on the phone. And then the sound of the door being unlocked. I waited a few minutes and then edged the door open and peered out. The shotgun was lying on the back bar and the rafters that Bob had built a few months before were lying on the ground or hanging freely from the ceiling. ‘What the hell did you do, Buckaroo!’ I demanded. Bob sat on a barstool with a freshly poured mug of beer. ‘I undid the work your fucking boss never paid me for,’ he said. ‘I also called the cops. I probably won’t be seeing you around for a while.’ I was too stunned to laugh at the time, but I took great pleasure in telling that story afterwards. As for Buckaroo, he ‘went away’ for a few months.”

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