"Robinson, Spider - Callahans Crosstime Saloon" - читать интересную книгу автора (Robinson Spider)

"There is nothing which has been
contrived by man by which so
much happiness has been produced
as by a good tavern or inn."

-Samuel Johnson








1

THE GUY WITH THE EYES

Callahan's Place was pretty lively that night. Talk fought Budweiser for mouth
space all over the joint, and the beer nuts supply was critical. But this guy
managed to keep himself in a corner without being noticed for nearly an hour. I
only spotted him myself a few minutes before all the action started, and I make
a point of studying everybody at Callahan's Place.
First thing, I saw those eyes. You get used to some haunted eyes in
Callahan's-the newcomers have 'em -but these reminded me of a guy I knew once in
Topeka, who got four people with an antique revolver before they cut him down.
I hoped like hell he'd visit the fireplace before he left.

If you've never been to Callahan's Place, God's pity on you. Seek it in the
wilds of Suffolk County, but look not for neon. A simple, hand-lettered sign
illuminated by a single floodlight, and a heavy oaken door split in the center
(by the head of one Big Beef McCaffrey in 1947) and poorly repaired.
Inside, several-heresies.
First, the light is about as bright as you keep your living room. Callahan
maintains that people who like to drink in caves are unstable.
Second, there's a flat rate. Every drink in the house is half a buck, with the
option. The option operates as follows:
You place a one-dollar bill on the bar. If all you have on you is a fin, you
trot across the street to the all-night deli, get change, come back and put a
one-dollar bill on the bar. (Callahan maintains that nobody in his right mind
would counterfeit one-dollar bills; most of us figure he just likes to rub
fistfuls of them across his face after closing.)
You are served your poison-of-choice. You inhale this, and confront the
option. You may, as you leave, pick up two quarters from the always-full
cigarbox at the end of the bar and exit into the night. Or you may, upon
finishing your drink, stride up to the chalk line in the middle of the room,
announce a toast (this is mandatory) and hurl your glass into the huge,
oldfashioned fireplace which takes up most of the back wall. You then depart
without visiting the cigarbox. Or, pony up another buck and exercise your option
again.