Fourteen Beers at Chili's

Page 15

If seeing Sasquatch is as easy as sitting at the bar at Chili's, then there would be way more pictures of him. Hell, with how often you go to Chili's, you should have seen him yourself by now if it was one of his popular hangouts.

Rubbing your eyes, you take a second look at Sasquatch. He's not a cryptid, but a man. A very tall, very hair, and unfortunately smelly man. His furry paunch sticks out of his AC/DC shirt. Sasquatch surely didn't listen to AC/DC. He doesn't have a radio out in the woods. You look away as he reaches down to pick lint out of his belly button. You've seen enough.

Thank god you didn't try to confront him!

Relaxing in your stool, you do your best to ignore your strange visions. There must have been something in that smoke after all. No wonder Kyle was freaking out. He must have gotten some really fucked up weed to have that kind of reaction. His wallet feels foreign in your pocket. It's much thicker than yours. It feels wrong to have it, but you remind yourself you didn't steal it. He dropped it, and you are holding onto it for him. There is nothing wrong with that.

Over the next fifteen or so minutes, you leisurely drink three more beers. Immense satisfaction floods through your body as you meet your arbitrary goal. You might not pass all your finals, but at least you have this achievement.

The man formerly known as Sasquatch sips on an appletini. The neon green liquid looks like battery acid, and your stomach recoils at the thought of any more alcohol. You don't have anything against fruity drinks, but beer is where it's at. It was like drinking a frothy glass of wet musty bread. There is something delightful about it.

As good as beer is, you know you'd reached your limit.

The bartender slides the black checkbook across the bar. Opening it, your mouth drops open at the total. You thought you budgeted correctly, but the bill is over seventeen bucks! Damn, you really are bad at math. Derek didn't cover as many rounds as you thought he would. Cheap bastard. You deserved more for sacrificing part of your appetizer.

You shift in your stool nervously, and Kyle's wallet nearly pops out of your pocket. Gulping, you reach down to pull it out of your pocket. You don't know how you didn't notice before when checking the ID, but it's stuffed to the brim with cash. Nobody carries cash anymore, especially not this much. Maybe Kyle is a drug dealer.

The tiny baggie of cocaine that falls onto the bar when you pull out a twenty confirms Kyle is definitely a drug dealer.

Sasquatch guy snatches it before you can. He slips it into the pocket of his jorts and looks straight ahead, ignoring you. You look up to see if the bartender saw, but his back is turned. You stare at Sasquatch guy, mouth agape, but he ignores you entirely.

What are you supposed to do? Tell the bartender this guy stole cocaine out of a wallet that isn't even yours? That was a surefire way to get banned from the restaurant forever, and that's a risk you aren't willing to take. You don't want that cocaine anyway.

Slapping the twenty in the book, you slide it back across the bar. You consider the money as a finder's fee for picking up Kyle's wallet. Anyone else would have taken everything. You don't know how to explain the missing cocaine, though. Nobody will ever believe Sasquatch took it from you.

You stumble slightly as you make your way through the door out into the night. The bros are long gone, and you hope they found Kyle. You'd ask Derek about it later, but right now all you want is to lie down.

Studying for finals can wait until tomorrow.

END.

BEER COUNTER: 14