This is the sixth installment of the Call Me Kitty series. For any new readers, it's a slight departure from our usual fare, so if you don't like it then just wait a few days and we'll return to our regularly scheduled idiocy. For any fans of our hero Dave, please read on.
“Hey, Dave… Rolling Rock?”
“You got it.”
And so went the usual interaction as he stepped up to the bar at Gordon’s Bar and Grill. Gordon was rarely around, but Dugger was predictably behind the bar anytime Dave stopped in after work. Dave never knew Dugger’s real name, but called him by the name of the small town in Indiana from which he came. Anyone who had ever been to Gordon’s more than once would call him Dugger and would be quickly reprimanded if they called him anything else. Especially if they called him “sir”. Some people are like that.
Dugger dropped off the Rolling Rock and Dave responded with an automatic “thank you, sir.”
Football season was in full swing, so as Dugger stepped to the tap and poured some beer down the side of a small beer glass for himself, Dave asked what looked good this weekend.
“I’m surprised Minnesota is only 4 point favorite this week… spread should be a lot greater than that.”
Dugger pulled up a stool on the other side of the bar from Dave and continued. “The big money must know something, so I’d take the 4 points and hope the Vikes tank.”
Football was always more exciting with some money on the line, but Dave was a little short on funds this week. Dugger was no authority on the game, but his logic sounded good at the time.
“Tell you what,” Dave proposed, “you spot me on this one and I’ll take the 4 points for a buck. If the Vikes do happen to cover, I’ll give you the two seats I got for the hockey game next Tuesday. Center ice, man.”
Dugger knew he shouldn’t take advantage of one of his best customers -- he knew Dave had just broken up with Kate, his frequent companion to the games. And the inside scoop on the line was only some crap he had heard some blowhard spewing out the other night. Hell, if he wanted, Dugger could probably even get a date with Kate. He was sure she would enjoy using the tickets she had become accustomed to.
“Deal, buddy. I’ll spot you a hundred and call Baker.”
Baker was the local bookie that occasionally frequented Gordon’s. He didn’t even need to call him. The Vikings would cover, and even if they didn’t Dugger could talk Dave into rolling his winnings into another losing bet. Life was good. And so was Kate.
Dave finished his beer and a few others and left a generous tip in return for the action. Life was good he thought to himself as he sloughed off to his car. It’s definitely who you know....