January 8, 2007
‘Lordy, Flo, Don’t He Look Like Junior’
late in the afternoon and I stopped into a cozy little bar I‘d never
visited before to wet my whistle, as they say.
place was quiet, except for an un-listened-to jukebox pumping out a
1980s country music song that included mentions of trains, pick-up
trucks, mothers and jilted lovers. I ordered a beer, and the barmaid - a
big woman with a friendly face - smiled sweetly as she set it in front
when the guy sitting two stools to my left said, “Lordy, Flo, don’t he
look like Junior, though?”
the barmaid, turned on her heel and returned to where I was sitting.
After eyeballing me for a few seconds, she replied, “Yeah, enough to be
Junior hisself, or leastways his brother.”
“Junior ain’t got no brother,” the guy on the barstool offered. “But, if
he did, this here guy could pass for him easy enough.”
this point, I figured it was time for me to get involved in the
is this Junior?” I asked.
is, was,” the man at the bar replied.
was,” he said. “Junior’s gone now.”
died?” I asked.
he said, “He moved. To Kansas.”
“That’s gone, all right,” I said.
other guy was quiet for a few moments, then he asked, “You know what
makes you look so much like Junior?”
eyes?” I guessed.
“Nope,” he replied. “Your nose.”
I was close anyway, huh?” I said.
looked at the barmaid. “He’s got a nose just like Junior’s, don’t he,
Flo?” he said.
She walked over and stared at my nose.
nose for sure,” she said.
The guy at the bar took another sip of his
beer. “Yup,” he said, “the nose makes you look just like Junior. And the
I replied, “I don’t have a mustache.”
“Exactly,” he said. “Neither does Junior.”
Another customer entered the place. The guy at the bar who thought I was
the mirror-image of Junior turned away from me to eye the newcomer.
“Lordy, Flo,” he said. “Don’t this guy look just like Jimmy, though?”
quickly drained my beer and fled.
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