The Phone Booth Incident - A Ned's Tavern Tale

“I solved a case today,” said Craven. “It started with the flick of an ash from a ‘46 Buick.”

Craven Danger stubbed out his cigarette in the half-eaten pig’s knuckle and lit another.

“Hey! That’s my pig’s knuckle!” said Ned.

“Sorry, Ned. I’m a nervous wreck tonight. Today was downright hair-raising.”

“Next time take it out on your own dinner.”

The nerve of this guy. Comes in here a couple of days a week to chat me up about what a loser he is. Oh, he never calls himself a loser. But by the time he’s done burning my ears with his woebegone blather, I’m getting ready to drop an extra coaster on the bar to catch his tears. That only happens with whiskey. If I keep him on beer I may get a left-handed smile. Sometimes I get a dance. Like the night I Don’t Want to Set the World on Fire popped up on the jukebox. That’s the night he got stuffed in the phone booth by Hal the garbage man, who’s wife he tried to pull onto the dance floor while Hal was busy in the back letting go of the ten beers he’d been guzzling. After putting Craven in place, Hal drags the juke box from its place on the wall and sets it to rest in front of the booth. Me? I feigned ignorance. Hal is a walking hunk of granite. Under such circumstances, ignorance shall remain bliss at Ned’s. I didn’t worry, though. Hal has a smooth touch. That juke box never skipped a beat. And I knew it was a matter of time before Craven figured out he was in the right place to call Betty to come to his rescue. And, let me tell you, it wasn’t the first time Betty’s had to put her hands on that juke box to set free the man inside the booth.

And yet, I love those nights. On nights like that I invite Betty to the bar, followed by a sheepish detective, and hand her a chilled dry martini with two olives. I leave the shaker and get a wink from Betty. I love that woman. She tells the best jokes and knows how to make a fella feel like a friend, even if you’ve just been introduced. I’m glad to know her. It makes putting up with Craven a little easier.

“The flick of an ash, you say?”

“Yeah, Ned.”

“Cigarette or cigar?”

“Ah, geez, Ned. Now I have to go back and rethink the whole thing.”

“Here. Have a beer and a think on me, Craven. Oh, and by the way, Hal and his ol’ lady just walked in. I’d stay dancing in my seat if I were you. But if you want to give Betty a shout, I’ll chill up a martini. I could use a warm smile and a laugh about now. But use the bar phone. Stay away from the booth. Show Betty a little consideration. And are you sure it was a Buick?”

Photo courtesy of Wiki Commons: 

https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Old_Phone_booth.jpg