(Man walks in. African American, approximately 50-60 years old, mustached face, tightly curled hair.)
Man (to me): Is this seat taken? (He points to the stool next to me. He speaks in a halt and concise borderline shouting tone.)
Me: Not as far as I know.
Man: The name’s Jules. Jules Winnfield.
Me: I’m Brian Tunney, how are you?
Man: I’d be a lot better if it wasn’t so mutha fu**ing cold out, I can tell you that.
Me: I heard that. I’m never ready for winter. So what brings you in here tonight?
Man: I’m just walking the Earth, meeting people, getting into adventures… like Caine from Kung Fu.
Me: Really, that’s awesome. My story isn’t nearly as interesting. I prefer riding bikes to walking, try to keep to myself and like the Jedi before me, do my best to not crave adventure.
Man (Amused): That’s some funny shit right there, you know what I’m saying? So what’s on the menu in this place anyway?
Me: I think there’s some kinda pork chops as the special today. I don’t know, I wasn’t really paying attention.
Man: I don’t eat pork.
Me (Attempting to make a joke): What, are you Jewish?
Man: Nah, I ain’t Jewish, I just don’t dig on swine, that’s all…. This reminds me of a conversation I once had with a former colleague about 15 years ago…. It was a very strange day.
Man: I can’t really go into the specific details. I left that behind long ago… I will say this though: on that day, myself and my former colleague, we witnessed a miracle…. He’s not with us anymore, but I won’t ever forget that day I spent with him.
Me: Sorry for your loss man. That sucks.
Man: Shit, it’s cool man. That was the line of business we was in, if you see where I’m coming from.
Me: Oh, uh. Maybe that’s all you need to say then.
Man: You telling me man. But I left all that mutha fu**ing shit behind years ago. Got out of L.A., made a new life for myself. (He grabs for the peanuts on the bar, swallows a handful and continues chewing.) Mind if I have some of your tasty beverage to wash this down with?
Me: Not at all Jules. It’s a pale ale, I hope that’s okay.
Man: Shit man, that’s cool. Say, you know where someone like me could find a place to stay around here for a while?
Me: I don’t really know. Have you tried Craigslist?
Man: I’m trying Ringo…. I’m trying real hard.
Me: Who’s Ringo?
Man: Shit man, I just don’t dig on Craigslist.
Me: Well, there’s an apartment building near our house that does month-to-month rentals, and I think some of the apartments are furnished too. You’re gonna get, well, you know, that transient element, but what else would you expect from that kinda place. At least it’ll be cheaper than the city.
Man: If you would be so kind as to give me directions to this esteemed place, I would be most grateful my kind sir.
(I write down directions for Jules on a napkin and point him up the hill.)
Me: Here you go Jules. If you need anymore help, I’m here most nights.
Man: Thanks man. You’ve been like Fonzie to me.
Me: Huh? What do you mean?
Man: What’s Fonzie like?
Man: Correctamundo. And that’s what you’ve been to me. Thanks.
(The man starts to exit the bar.)
Me: Jules, I got one question for you before you leave?
Man: What’s that?
Me: What was in Marcellus Wallace’s brief case anyway?