The Dinghy - A Ned's Tavern Tale

Max and Stinky sat in the dinghy and cracked open two beers.

“Tuna sandwich?” said Stinky.

“Sure. It may be the only kinda fish we’ll see all day.”

The joke made them chuckle, as it had every fishing day since they were kids.

After placing the oars in the oarlocks, Max managed a couple of drunken strokes; knocking Chattanooga Choo Choo off its track on the jukebox.

At the sudden disturbance of his favorite tune, Ned made haste up the cellar stairs.

“Hey! What are you fools doing in my dinghy!”

“Ah, geez,” said Stinky. “Take it easy. It’s rainin’ bats and rats outside. Me and Max were headin’ up to Central Park to get in some fishin’ when a thunderbolt changed our mind. Go to Ned’s, it said. He’s got a boat on the wall, and not a cloud in the whole joint—unless you catch the proprietor on a bad day. You wanna cold beer, dear Ned? We got plenty in the cooler.”

“It’s eight o’clock in the morning! And besides, I’m the only one gets to hand out beer in this joint. It’s getting so a fella can’t fetch a keg of beer from the cellar without you two hoodlums showing up causing me grief. Now, you put that dinghy back on the wall where it belongs. And just how the heck did you idiots get in here? We ain’t open yet.”

“You left the keys in the door,” said Max. “We sorta took it as an open invite. Us being your best customers and all.”

“Regulars who guzzle down what others ain’t finished, ain’t gonna win you no kewpie doll from me. And when you're done hanging the dinghy, you’ll go down to the cellar and bring up that keg I left behind.”

“But we don’t work for you no more. Remember? You fired us last Monday.”

“I’ve been firing you boys every Monday for ten years. And I hire you back ever Friday. Remember?”

“Oh, yeah. It’s all coming back.”

“If you boys showed a little moxie I wouldn’t have to fire you at all. With you two it’s never: how can I enhance my work performance to make the job more efficient. With you fellas it’s always: how can we get away with doing nothing, and how much more will you give us in return.  But, like I was saying, that keg’s not ambitious enough to climb the stairs on its own.  So . . .”

“We can take a hint,” said Max. “But me and Stinky only got enough muscle to equal that of a healthy 80 year year-old. Pitiful, I know. Best we can manage—in between smoke breaks—is three steps a day. And if my calculations are correct, we’ll have it to you by noon on Monday. But we guarantee quality work.

“Oh, for cripes sake, let’s all go down to the cellar! I ain’t leaving you two up here with the booze.”

“Good to be in your employ again, Ned.”

“Good to have you boys back, and Monday can’t come soon enough for me. Now follow my lead.”

Photo courtesy of Wiki Commons:

https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/6/6d/Henry_Scott_Tuke_-_M...