Lurch sat at the bar and surveyed the customers. That was the problem with small towns, he thought. You knew everybody and everybody knew you.
In Chicago, he’d wear shorts to show his prosthetic leg and the barflies would naturally assume he was a veteran. He never actually claimed this status, but he didn’t discourage it. He wore dog tags and BDU shorts and boots. In some Chicago bars, he seldom had to buy a drink.
But everybody here knew he’d lost the leg jumping off a train. “Dare me,” he’d said.
He’d been drunk, of course.
Then and now.
At lest he’s found a way to live he seems comfortable with, although it cost him a leg to do so
Complex. Not a happy man.
What a sorry way to lose a leg. i could see people getting a laugh about it, though.
Brilliant take
Good concept, and you’ve carried it out really well. Your last line gave me a wry smile.
Sad tale, but I object to him exploiting this, even though he’s just playing on people’s assumptions.
I can see this happen for real… and another drunk veteran is nothing too rare … alas.
Well done. He seems to be enjoying the attention deserved or not.
Thanks everybody. Lurch is a real dude. He sometimes gets so drunk he leaves his leg in the bar.
‘If at first you don’t succeed’ he said as he jumped off the train a second time!
Click to read my FriFic tale
Presumably Lurch is a nickname? Love it!
Great concept.
Sounds like a double dare. Good story for a blog of this name?. Some people just can’t help themselves!
There are many forms of pain. Well written.