"HEY, MAN, BUY ME SOME LIQUOR"

By

Jimmy Joe Meeker

First Published in The Wilson County Advocate, Vol. 1, No. 22 ©October 29, 1991 by Donald W. Gillette

Liquor by the drink might cure one thing.

I was coming out of my favorite liquor store Saturday night about 7:45 with a bottle of Wild Turkey 101 under my arm when I heard a high-pitched ear-grating voice say, "Hey, man."

I looked around and spotted two kids; a pimply-faced, blond-headed punk and a dark-haired, greasy huckleberry, looking at me. Pimple-face was driving a truck with one of those "Pro-Nets" on the back instead of a tailgate. I hesitated for a moment. Could he know me?

"You talking to me?" I asked.

He nodded his head. Maybe he did know me. And maybe not. Maybe I cut him off in traffic and he and his buddy were crazy enough to want to mix it up with an Irishman twice their size. You can never tell.

So I shifted the bottle of Old Mr. Natural into my hand just in case I needed an edge. After all, a fifth of Wild Turkey will do considerable damage when wielded like a battle axe and I wasn't at all sure they weren't out for blood. When I got to the truck, the kid had his wallet out and was thumbing through it. He glanced up at me for a split-second.

"Can you buy me some liquor, man?" he asked.

Well, damn me.

I've seen this sort of thing work in the movies, but I tried it myself when I was a teenager and it never worked. And now, out of the blue, some kid thought I was going to be dumb enough to risk going to jail to buy him a pint of Jack Daniels.

I was flabbergasted. It must be this wild look in my eyes, I reasoned. That had to be it. I wasn't even dressed in my usual jeans and sweatshirt.

I was on my way to pick up Angelique and she's very adamant about appearances. I despise her for that quality, but she's got really great…well, anyway. I was wearing Botany 500 slacks, an Arrow shirt, my trust L.L. Bean V-neck sweater, and a pair of Timberlands. It wasn't a typical night for me: I didn't look like a bum.

And that bothered me. Wasn't it obvious they had the wrong guy?

I mean, at least the times I tried to get somebody to buy me liquor, it was always one of those guys who hadn't bathed in a month and used a piece of rope for a belt.

But, back to the tale.

"What'd you say?" I asked.

This kid had a very hard time making eye contact.

I think he realized his mistake. He looked up briefly and then looked back to his wallet. "Will you buy me some liquor?" he mumbled again.

And I lied to him.

I impersonated an officer of the law and I lied to him.

"That probably wouldn't be a very good idea," I said. "Because besides being one ruthless son-of-a-bitch, I'm also a deputy sheriff."

If anyone had said this to me when I was 17, I would have floorboarded it, spun gravel, and been in the next county inside of six minutes.

Not this kid, though. He was cool. Ugly, but cool.

He looked straight ahead through the windshield and said, "Okay. Thanks, man."

I turned and started to walk away but then I thought better of it and turned back around to face him.

"Hey," I said.

He looked up at me.

"Listen, you got plenty of time," I advised.

He smiled, put his truck in reverse, and backed away.

XXX