Laser Beam

While conversing jovially with Angelique at Beauregard's, I noticed in front of me, at a nearby table, the look of anger.

Or so I believed.

The young man glared at me.

Why?

J'ne sais pas.

I do not read minds.  I read lips.  I assess facial expressions, body language.

He reminded me of the bar fights of my youth, most I avoided and a few in which I found myself throwing drunk punches and receiving badly thrown fists in return.

One look.

A dare.

A chip on one's shoulders another wants to knock off for fun.

At my age and physical condition, one contact between a five-finger sandwich and my jaw would knock me back and out of action quickly.

After all, I don't live in Texas.  I don't carry a six-shooter by my side.

Otherwise, one angry look and that face'd be wearing a couple of slugholes.

"What happened to him?"

"You mean Slugboy?  He grimaced at the wrong oldtimer."

"Them youths don't have no respect no more, do they?"

"And they pay dearly for it, too!"

Time to climb on Saddleback Sue and ride on outta here.  Gitty up, girl.  You still got a few good steps left in you and the patientest mule I've ever known.

Thanks to Donny and his beautiful sales staff for setting me up with my wedding ring all shiny and new.  And to the worrisome lady at Ayers Farm Produce shop at the corner of Governor's and the Parkway - we're still thinking about your family and praying y'all will accept that what happens is what happens - we know you'll find a way to make the best of it.  Life ain't easy but we cope.