The Badass Gentleman

On a dark and stormy night, a lone Stranger walked into a tavern full of bikers. Now these weren’t bikers who biked for exercise or to do wheelies in front of girls. These were the true gangster bikers. The sort that is covered in tattoos, hair and an aura of cigarette smoke.

They eyed the Stranger with a  look of interest. He didn’t seem to be threatening at all, with his smaller build and shorter stature. Nevertheless there was something very strange about him.

The Stranger walked up to the barman and asked him for a drink. As the barman turned away to pour the drink, a large, muscular biker sat next to the Stranger.

Inside the dimly lit bar, the others murmured, “Spike…”.

Truly, Spike was the meanest, most toughest biker in their midst. They said that he once punched a hole through a solid brick wall, grabbed the person on the other side and choked him to death with his hands. He’s such a badass.

Spike eyed the Stranger for sometime who coolly avoided his gaze.

“Hey..” Growled Spike. “What d’ya think ya doin’ ‘ere?”

“Merely having a drink my good fellow.” Replied the Stranger, in a calm yet refined voice. Spike thought he sounded like one of those distinguished gentlemen who read out poetry in old TV shows. Spike hated poetry, old TV shows and distinguished gentlemen.

The barman, sensing this as he gave the Stranger his drink said, “Now Spike, take it easy man.”

“Shut up.”

The barman turned around and started to clean one of his already cleaned mugs.

“Listen up short man.” Growled Spike again. “This is my bar.”

He grabbed the Strangers drink and threw it on the floor. The audience tensed up. Spike wanted a fight. It was going to be a massacre.

“That was not very polite.” Said the Stranger, turning around to face the burly gangster biker and looking at him squarely in the eye.

“Oh yeah what are you gonna do about it?”

The Stranger calmly raised his left hand, in which he held his walking stick.

“I’ve got the magic stick.”

“And you’re gonna hit me with it?”

“I know if I can hit once, I can hit twice.”

Spike stood up suddenly, his stool flying into the air behind him and landing noisily on the floor.

“I am the baddest motherfucker here.” He roared.

“If you don’t believe me, then fight me tonight.” Replied the Stranger calmly.

Spike and the Stranger were looking squarely in each other’s eyes. The atmosphere in the room was quiet yet tense, as it was always quiet before the storm.

“What are you gonna do little man?”

“I’ll show you magic.”

“What? What?”

“Magic. I got the magic stick.”

What they saw last was Spike lunging at the Stranger roaring like a demented beast and the Stranger backing away, waving his stick at his burly aggressor. There was a flash of electricity as the stick struck Spike, sending him reeling backwards and away from the Stranger. The Stranger hit him with the stick again and again.

The rest of the bar was too mesmerized by the light show, and possibly afraid of it, to participate in the fight. However, by the end of it, Spike was lying on the floor, seemingly dead, and the Stranger walked out of the bar calmly.

“Hey where do you think you’re going???” yelled the barman at the Stranger just as he was exiting the door.

The Stranger paused, turned around and spoke in the most calmest, distinguished and yet the most badass voice before he left them for the night.

“You can find me in the club.”

 

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~ by Prageeth Thoradeniya on January 11, 2011.

One Response to “The Badass Gentleman”

  1. awsm! 🙂

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