The Spit

Every day brings a new idiot

By Tracy Farr
Editor, The Daily Spittoon

It's not every day that Bud Henderson gets a certified idiot in Stinky Creek Saloon, but he got one Sunday.

It was about 1:15 in the afternoon, and it had been sleeting outside since about 9:45 that morning. I was sitting at the counter eating a slice of homemade double fudge pit, Bud was wiping down the counter after a big lunch rush, when a man wearing a motorcycle helmet walked through the door. His boots, rain suit, gloves and helmet were covered in ice.

He stood there for a moment, just inside the door, as if he was trying to make up his mind what to do next. When I asked if he needed any help, he just shook his head.

As the man lifted his arms to take off his helmet, sheets of ice cracked off his suit and fell to the floor. It took him about 10 minutes to get all his gear off, and when he did, he bellied up to the counter and asked Bud for a cup of coffee.

"I usually don't drink coffee," he told us, "but today I'm going to make an exception."

Bud filled the man's cup four times with good old cowboy coffee before he stopped shivering. For a long while he just sat there with his hands wrapped around the mug, staring into the coffee.

I asked him if it wasn't a bit chilly to be riding a motorcycle and he nodded his head, never looking up from his cup.

"Didn't have a choice," he said, indicating to Bud needed his cup refilled again.

I asked if his car had broken down and he was using the only mode of transportation that he had.

"No," he said. "It was my wife."

Trying to be funny, I asked him if his WIFE had broken down. With that, he finally looked up from his cup with one eyebrow raised and a smirk on his face.

"No, I'm going to a convention in San Antonio and I told my wife I could make it there and back on my bike."

San Antonio and back in February? In this weather? Do you realize that's another six hours away?

"She said I couldn't do it. That I'd wimp out before I got to Dallas. So here I am."

In THIS weather? Are you crazy?

The man nodded his head and said, "It's a point of honor, now."

It's crazy, I told him, but to each his own.

"To each his own," he said, raising his cup in a mock salute. And then he ordered scrambled eggs, hash browns, bacon, sausage, toast and a large glass of orange juice. He looked so miserable Bud didn't have the heart to tell him that he stopped serving breakfast a couple of hours ago.  Instead, Bud just cooked him his meal, and boy could he put it away. He ate like he hadn't seen food in a week.

And when it came time to pay the bill, the man proved to be smarter than I had given him credit for.

"Instead of printing out a receipt through the cash register," he said to Bud, "do you think you can give me a hand-written one, and print San Antonio Saloon at the top?"

"Of course," Bud said. "I never mind helping my fellow man in times of need."

"And do either one of you gentlemen know of a good hotel around here? I think I'm going to be staying around a few days."

Yes, trying to save face to prove a point is sometimes pointless. Sometimes it's better to tell a lie, show the wife a few fake receipts, and enjoy free cable in a warm hotel room.