70
Wednesday, March 24, 2021, 12PM Central Standard Time
“Okomo,” Angelo bellowed from the back of the bar. “Why you talking about Okomo. He was the Antichrist.”
Mike looked over to him and yelled back, “Hey, maybe you’re right. Because the world seems to be about to end. But it sure didn’t when he was in office, did it?”
“Ah, fuck off,” Angelo said.
“And a very fine day to you, sir,” Mike said.
“Ignore him,” Janet said.
Then she turned to Angelo. “You had better shut the hell up, old man, or I’ll turn you out on the streets again.”
She turned back to Mike and mouthed the words NO POLITICS at him.
“How is it politics for me to just say Okomo maybe isn’t the Antichrist?” he whispered to her.
“EVERYTHING is politics these days,” she said.
“Jesus,” Mike said. “No wonder we are in the shitter as a country.”
“Tacos?”
“Yeah.”
“Is Pete coming in?”
“I thought he was.”
“Should I put an order in for his tacos too?”
“Maybe wait a minute or two, see if he’s gonna show.”
“Okay, hon.” She walked back into the kitchen.
Hon, Mike thought. I must be growing on her.
Homero walked into the bar and sat down a few seats away from Mike.
“Hola, compañero,” Mike said.
“Como estas,” Homero said.
“I’m okay, I guess,” Mike replied. “You?”
“Same shit different day,” Homero said. “So, you hear about Pete?”
Mike felt a funny feeling go down his spine.
“What about him?”
“He’s in the hospital.”
“What?”
“Yeah. Up Route 31.”
“The virus?”
“I don’t know. He had some kind of attack. I think they don’t know what it is.”
“Jesus.”
Janet returned at this moment.
“What’s going on?” she said.
“It’s Pete,” Mike said.
“What is it?”
“We don’t know,” Homero said. “He’s in the hospital.”
“Virus?” Janet asked.
“I don’t think so,” Homero answered. “I heard they don’t know what it is yet.”
“I’m gonna take those tacos to go, I think,” Mike said, distractedly. He put some bills on the table.
“Or just… just have them yourself, or give them to Angelo, I don’t care.”
“Sure,” Janet said. “You going to visit him?”
“Yeah,” Mike said. “I’ll call here if I hear anything.”
“Thanks. You got my cell?”
“No,” he said. “Why don’t you give it to me.”
“She never give it to me!” yelled Angelo.
“Shut up, old man,” Janet growled.
Mike gave her his number and the contact popped up on his screen.
“Okay, I’ll… I’ll see you guys later.”
“Keep us informed,” Janet said.
“I will.”
© 2020 Nolan O’Brian