"A bit early for a cocktail," remarked Wal-terr, the constant bartender.
I needed something after having the strangest dream. Besides, I have to get sentenced at the Health Court at eleven o'clock. I'm waiting for McNulty.
"The trial's over?"
Yes, Judge Carson refused to grant a jury trial. I thought I was exercising my constitutional rights. The Judge said I was being a pain in the ass.
"The screws of justice being fastened to your palms and ankles."
Wal-terr sounded like a man also undone by the system.
"My case was thrown out of court as well. I should have been ecstatic."
I drank a rum and coke as Wal-terr related particulars. McNulty should have been here by now.
"That reminds me."
He opened the cash register and handed over a folded slip of paper. A phone message from Honey, McNulty's wife. Her husband couldn't make it today because the proceeding was before one o'clock, approximately the hour he rose from bed. A fine time to tell me.
"I thought everybody knew he didn't wake up until the afternoon. That's why he's in semi-retirement."
It was too late to get a new court date.
"You might be better off without him."
He's a friend. I couldn't have gone to court without first consulting him.
"Well, I got off, through no fault of McNulty's."
I recalled vaguely my lawyer friend talking about the case. A public disturbance. Wasn't it only a misdemeanor?
"Assault," the five foot four inch bartender replied proudly. "The judge wanted me to do hard time."
Didn't a man attack you?
"Me and a friend, Manny, were walking down the street at the shore in New Jersey. Yeah, I had a house there."
On bartender's pay?
"Hey, they were the years, Sard, when we didn't have to declare nothin'. It was a duplex. We rented the top half. In fact, I had to sell the place even though I won the case."
But McNulty bailed you out.
"We won almost in spite of him. Not that I'm saying he wasn't good in his time. Let me tell you what happened."
I only had a few minutes.
"Well, me and Manny were doing a little celebratin'. I think it was the Fourth of July. We had about a case of beer swilled each."
I can't drink one-sixth of a six-pack. How come you're not the one in Health Court?
"I make it a point not to go to the doctor. Superstition. As long as you don't find out what's wrong with ya, I don't think nothin' will happen."
Wal-terr apparently didn't go the dentist either. When he laughed you could see behind his bottom front teeth a quarter-inch buildup of tartar and plaque. I suppose the bar didn't have a good insurance plan, if any.
"We left the front porch and were walking down the main drag by the post office. Enjoyin' ourselves, singing, hooting at the girls. It was around six o'clock. This guy passes by us and tells us to quiet down but not in a very friendly way. We told him to go to hell. One thing led to another...."
Weren't the man's wife and kids with him?
"Yeah, he said that we were being lewd and public nuisances and threaten to go to the cops, which wasn't that far down the road."
One thing led to another....You mean that you sucker punched him.
"He was nearly a foot taller than me. Manny could barely stand up but we got the guy on the ground and started punching and kicking him."
So the cops got you for a public disturbance and fighting charge.
Wal-terr poured himself a beer from the tap.
"Want another?"
Okay.
"Just my luck we picked on an FBI agent. He wanted assault charges, everything. And no plea bargaining. McNulty was a basket case. He hadn't been in court for ten years. Besides, he had plead every case down. During the trial he didn't know whether to object or wind his watch."
You should have gotten another lawyer.
"I couldn't afford one. The prosecution came in with a ton of material...."
I have to go.
"Yeah, yeah. We got lucky that the prosecutor wasn't very good himself. None of the evidence was made available to us ahead of time. The judge interrupted him to help his presentation. All the time McNulty's sitting like a scared duck afraid to fly the first day of huntin' season. Finally, the judge threw out the case when it became apparent that the victim was using the full weight of the FBI to send Manny and me away for who knows how long."
A happy ending.
"The end of the happy ending happened in court. The rest is a personal disaster. The FBI agent used his government contacts to get the IRS after me. For the next five years I was audited. They had me sweatin' in places on my body I didn't know had pores. The end result was a series of judgments to get back taxes – I just couldn't explain how I had a second house, a boat, two thirty-five thousand dollar cars. A real mess. I lost a great bartending job where I got at least three hundred undeclared dollars per night. So here I am."
A reformed man.
"I wouldn't go that far."
You still put away a case?
"And smoke two packs of Camels a day. Hey, as long as I don't see the shore again, I figure I'm safe. But I always keep an eye out for cars following me."
FBI agents.
"One of these days I think the guy wants payback. You'll know when I'm found in the river with a bullet in the back of my head."
A Police Benevolent Association sticker on the back of your car only gets you so far.
"Good luck on your sentencing, Sard."
The Sardine's essays, articles, and stories have appeared around the Internet in the last few years at 3 A.M., Facets, Eclectica magazine, Fiction Funhouse, The Fiction Warehouse, 5_trope, and several film journals. Who and what he is probably will be revealed at various points through the articles appearing at this site. The first fifteen installments of his saga can be viewed at the old Unlikely Stories.