The roar of the explosion rocked the Rat Hole Bar and Grill, shaking thewalls and a fine mist of accumulated dust loose from the ceiling,along with a pair of Lizard Lips Louise’s panties that had stuck to the roofseveral months ago. Tanker cursed, wiping off the remains of his pickled pig’s foot that had slipped from his startled fingers and onto the floor. He had just raised the unsanitary morsel to his lips when the front door flew open and H.L. “Hardluck” Harding ran into the room.
“Tanker! Hey, Tank!” he screamed. Check it out, man!”
“Check what out, damnit?” he mumbled around the chewy pickled pork.
“Some sumbitch just blew up the Krispy Kreme donut shop!” Hardluck pointed toward the door. Tanker slid his 350-pound bulk off the stool and followed, a look of disbelief on his face.
“Who the hell would do a miserable thing like that, Hardluck?” he queried, swallowing noisily.
?It was a car bomb, I guess. Some asshole’s Toyota blew up in the parkinglot. Probably tryin’ to blow up some cops, there’s usually plenty around!”
Tanker shook his massive, shaggy head. “Nope. Not since they got robbedtwice in a week.” He paused to wash the pig’s foot down with half a mug ofbeer. “Now the cops hang out at the barbershop where it?s safer.”
“Maybe they didn’t know that,” Hardluck said, shrugging impassively. “I was just ridin’ by right after it happened.”
Tanker peered out the door into the gloom. “Anybody hurt?”
“I don’t think so, but everything for half a block’s covered with thatsticky sugar shit they dip the donuts in. I think Freddy, the night guy, wasin the back with his girlfriend. They were in the parkin’ lot covered withfrosting, an’ she was tryin’ to pull her pants up, but they were stuck toher legs. That gal’s got an ass on her, lemme tell ya!”
“Son of a bitch!” Tanker spat. “That was one of my favorite places aroundhere. Now what the hell am I gonna do for breakfast?”
“Maybe ya could go over to the barbershop with the cops.”
Tanker slapped Hardluck playfully on the shoulder, nearly knocking him offhis feet. “Aw, what the hell. Sit down an’ have a beer, Hardluck. We’llworry about breakfast when the time comes.”
The wail of approaching sirens echoed down the street, and Tanker set hisempty mug down on the bar to join Hardluck at the door. “Only took ’em halfan hour. Not bad time from the barbershop. It’s nearly three blocks away.”
The back door flew open with a crash and Tony the bartender nearly droppedthe bottle of Jack Daniels he had been watering down while nobody waslooking. “What’n hell do you think you’re doin’, pal?” he yelled.Tanker and Hardluck turned, staring down the barrel of a nickel-platedrevolver clutched in the hand of a very confused looking man. His swarthycomplexion and dark eyes made him hard to see in the gloom of the burned-outlight at the rear of the room, but his voice was low and dangerous. “I denda begehul” he said, motioning with the barrel of the pistol.
Tanker looked at the bartender. “Whad he say, Tony?”
“Shit, I don’t know,” Tony stammered, his eyes on the gun. “But whatever it was, I think he means it.”
Tanker walked up to the gunman, stopping almost within reach. “What did yajust say, buddy?”
The swarthy man shook his head and repeated, “I deed a begehul!” His accent hindering the conversation seemed to irritate him further.
“You ain’t from around here, are ya?” Tanker asked, his fingers twitchingnear the gun, almost ready to make his move.
The squeaking hinges on the front door made everyone turn toward theinterruption at once.
“You fellas seen anybody strange come in here?” The first police officerasked. They had stopped just inside the door to let their eyes adjust to thegloom.
Tanker felt the barrel of the pistol press into his back. “Officer,” he said, wincing as the cold steel dug between his ribs, “does this look like a place where you’d find anyone strange?” Tanker punctuated the question with a loud, juicy fart.
“Uh. No, I guess it doesn’t at that.” The officer spun on his heel, and ashe did, his foot hit the greasy spot left by Tanker’s pig’s foot and senthim sprawling face first to the sticky, littered floor. Without delay, hepicked himself up and made a hasty exit, followed by his partner.”Useless sons ‘a?” Tanker sputtered.
The gun probed his rib cage again. “I stel deed a begehul!” the voice behind him demanded.
Tanker spun to face his antagonist. “Ya’ miserable puke of a gawdamnraghead! If ya’d learn to talk American, I could get ya what ya want, an getya the hell outa here!”
“I believe he wants a vehicle, Tanker, my friend,” said a voice from thedarkness of the back booth.
“You still here, Doc?” Tanker rumbled. “I thought you’d left hours ago.”
“No, I’m afraid Mr. Daniels and I were taking a little nap.”
“The explosion didn’t wake ya up?? Tanker asked, incredulous.
“No, indeed not. It was your raucous flatulence that interrupted my peaceful slumber, I’m afraid.”
“You mind me askin’ how ya know what this diaper domed son of a bitch istalkin’ about?” Tanker inquired, gesturing toward the terrorist with amassive thumb.
“Tanker, my friend,” Doc chuckled, “I’ve been a dentist for forty years.”
“Oh, then you’ve probably seen a lot of pain, too,? Tanker mused.
“Oh, indeed I have,” Doc admitted.
“Tell me, Doc, does it look anything like THIS?” he shouted, bringing amassive knee up into the terrorist’s groin. It lifted the screaming Arab 2 feet off the ground, the pistol flying from his grasp as he crashed to thefloor in a quivering heap.
Tanker immediately grabbed the sobbing man by the neck and lifted him up,his feet dangling a foot off the floor. “Now I gotcha, you funny lookin’,funny talkin’, camel hunchin’ son of a bitch! I’m gonna pound yer skinny assto doll rags!”
“Allah wid sed me do padarise!” the man said through gritted teeth.
“Whad he say, Doc?” Tanker asked. He walked toward the back booth, the limp terrorist still hanging from a massive hand.
“He said Allah will send him to paradise, I believe. Their religion teaches them that if they die in a holy war, they go straight to Heaven.”
“Oh, yeah. I remember readin’ about that in a National Geographic I found in a gas station bathroom. Pretty stupid, huh? So, what should I do with him,Doc?” Tanker asked, totally confused.
Doc slid from the booth, and climbed unsteadily to his feet, wiping pretzel crumbs from the front of his dark, rumpled suit. “I think I know just the thing, Tanker, my friend.” Doc walked to the bar, where he dipped his handinto a big glass jar, extracting one of the venerable pickled pig’s feet. “Ithink our friend looks a bit hungry, don’t you?”
The terrorist’s eyes grew wide as Tanker took the pig’s foot and stuffed it into the Arab’s mouth as he screamed oaths in his native language. He chokedand tried to spit, but Tanker forced his jaw shut while Doc held thestruggling man’s nostrils shut. Finally, he swallowed, choking for breath.
“Damn, Doc,” Tanker said, “I’ve never seen a fella with such an almightyaversion to pickled pig’s feet in my life.”
“He has good reason, Tanker. He believes that by making him eat pork, we’ve sentenced him to an eternity in hell. They’re forbidden to touch pork.”
“Oh, they are, are they?” Tanker asked. “Hardluck! Go call Pancho an’ havehim bring over the hide from one of them hogs he raises.”
Thirty minutes later, the terrorist was sewn inside the skin of a freshlyslaughtered hog. He was reduced to a babbling mass of quivering flesh whenthe two police officers peeked cautiously in through the door. “Somebody inhere call us?”
“Yep,” Tanker said, pointing to the babbling terrorist. “Caught us a madbomber, here.”
The officers stared in disgust at the bloody pig skin and its contents,but, dedicated public servants that they were, they stooped and lifted thebomber between them. “You know, sir,” the sergeant said to Tanker, “there is a substantial reward for this man.”
Tanker and Hardluck looked at Tony and Doc and grinned. “How substantial?”
“About ten thousand dollars, I believe,” the officer said. “Just come downto the station tomorrow.”
After the officers left with the terrorist in tow, Tony poured them allanother round. “Well, boys,” he said, “it looks like a ragheads to richesstory to me!”
