Six pints into their evening, although it may have been seven as both were fairly well oiled by now and couldn't remember, Mick and Dave were busy putting the world to rights whilst both trying to maintain their balance on their stools at the same time. What had begun as a sensible enough catch up was now descending fast into the depths of political incorrectness.
- Davey boy, have you noticed pretty women…
- Once or twice.
He replied before Mick had a chance for his alcohol sodden brain to construct the rest of his sentence.
- Nah, nah man. Let me finish. Where was I?
- Sat there next to me last time I checked.
Davey laughed at his own bad joke and Mick tried to flat palm his arm in annoyance but missed and nearly took himself and the stool over and so decided that standing might be the better idea. Then finding when stood that his legs were as stable as a newborn foal's, he spotted an empty table, took a swipe at his glass with an open hand and miraculously caught hold of it rather than sending it smashing to the floor and managed to stagger over to the table and take a seat. Dave, like a faithful dog, followed suit and took the chair beside his old pal.
Mick took a swig of drink that he didn't need. His mouth had given him a clue as part of it dribbled down his chin which he then wiped away with the back of his right hand as his brain tried desperately to form a complete sentence in a head that was busy swirling like a kids merry-go-round.
- I feel drunk.
- Alcohol will do that to you Mick.
- Nah it's not that it's something I've eaten.
- Chocolate liquors maybe?
Mick looked at his friend confused, clearly not getting the joke which had made Davey laugh again.
- Stop fucking laughing at me you prick.
Davey laughed again and instead of getting annoyed Mick joined in to.
- What was I saying?
- When?
Mick points at the bar.
- Just now or earlier?
- Just now.
Davey had a think and his eyes rolled upwards and his eyelids lowered down like his lights might go out if he thought any harder.
- Pretty women!
He exclaims in excitement impressed at his own short term memory still working. Well for now at least. Mick waves a finger at his friend as if to say you clever old fucker you and grins like a idiot missing from the village.
- Is your mouth about to get us into trouble cause I'm not sure I've it in me to fight anyone you know?
Mick stops to give the question some thought and looks around the pub and tries to work out if two plus two still equalled four. Given they were alone, other than an old couple in the far corner, he figured that they'd be alright but you never know with old folks, one might have a stick to smack you over the head with.
- I think we'll be ok.
Finally some four minutes after he started his sentence he finished it although he started it differently this time around.
- Pretty women yeah…
Dave thought about doing a Roy Orbison impression and singing ‘walking down the street,’ but figured correctly that if he did that whatever the point he was about to make was better delivered now than like a poorly written envelope with a second class stamp on it attached upside down in the wrong corner.
- Pretty women always have a fat lass with ‘em like that they've adopted right. Why is that?
It quickly transpires that Mick wasn't actually asking Dave but himself because he continued on.
- It's because they feel better about themselves and makes them look more attractive to blokes like you and me.
Dave, his mind still incredibly sharp despite the six pints inside of him, or was it seven cause neither could remember and who's round was it next anyway, placed his pint glass on the table and leaned forward and looked at his friend with a stern look on his face.
- Mick, I need to tell you something.
His tone of voice must have carried a sobering edge to it because it snapped Mick to and he was more alert than he’d been at anytime in the last 369 seconds. Mick learned forward in his chair.
-Fuck, what is it Davey?
- How long have we known each other?
Mick has a think.
- Since we were 5.
- And how many years is that?
- How old are we now?
- When telling the truth or lying?
- Erm… truth.
- 46.
It takes Mick far to long to come up with the answer.
- 42 years. Christ, that's a long time.
- Close enough and yes it is. Mick in those 41 years…
- I thought you said it was 42?
- No you said it was 42, 46 minus 5 is 41.
- Since when?
- Since yesterday.
- Oh.
Mick says sounding somewhat surprised.
- In all those 41 years have you ever asked yourself why we're friends?
- Mick clearly hasn't ever given it any thought but tries to give it some consideration now. His face is that of a man whose just been told he has twenty minutes to live with a gun pointed as his head if he can't complete the crossword in front of him, the clues for which are all written in Arabic.
- Should I tell you why Mick?
Mick isn't sure he wants some declaration of love from his best friend and so keeps schtum.
- Mick old buddy, old pal of mine… you're my fat bird who keeps me looking fucking gorgeous whenever anyone looks at us both and that truthfully… that's why your my friend.
And with this he howls with laughter in a pitch so high that the primates at the zoo could have heard him from there and were probably now busy going ape shit thinking their moment to take over the planet had finally come.
Mick was trying to call him all the names under the sun that he could think of but couldn't make himself heard over the hoots of laughter and derision coming from his so-called best mate. Dave was having to alternate his hands between the pain in his stomach from laughing so much and wiping away the alcohol sodden tears that now stung his eyes and rolled down his cheeks. Even the two old timers in the corner were having a good chortle at Mick's expense though they didn't know the context as to why as their hearing circle extended not much further than the gap between each other on a good day. Barry the landlord had walked round from the other side of the bar to see what all the commotion was about and sensibly just shook his head, turned on his heels and walked back through to where he'd appeared from. This went on for the best part of two minutes by which time Dave had cried at least room for one pint if not two and was desperately trying to take deep breaths before he made himself sick. Eventually he opted for a series of shorter breaths like he was about to give birth at any moment to regain his composure.
Calmness finally ensued but not after a few after shocks which presented themselves in the form of the odd titter, chortle and snort.
- You done?
- Probably not.
-Think that was funny did you?
- Did you not catch me laughing there Mick?
- Dickhead.
- It was funny man come on admit it?
- Did you see me laughing?
- I couldn't see anything my eyes were stinging from all the laughing and crying. I think I might have let out a little wee.
- Good serves you right you bastard.
Before the lovers' tiff could escalate into a full blown war of words the front door to the bar slammed open and a young woman fell through it with all the grace of a swan in high heels giggling as she came. Six of them came into the bar in all, all high on Friday night and good knows what else. It was the point where the last of the half dozen walked through the door that Dave had completely lost it again and had taken up the fetal position on the floor and was now busy holding his belly for dear life.
You might have thought that Mick as a man who'd had his point proven would have looked happier in his demeanor coupled with the fact that he looked the better option of the pair had it not been twenty years or more since any woman had looked at either of them in that type of manner. But no, disconsolate he banged his head on the table and just left in the there in defeat.
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