The wind slammed the door shut behind me as I entered Harry’s last Thursday. A cloud of paper napkins rose up from the counter. Joe cursed as he chased them down with a heavy hand.

“What about that storm last night?” said Des from her perch at the other end of the bar. She wore a Seattle Seahawks tee-shirt and a Mariners baseball cap. “Blew all the furniture off my patio.”

“Poor baby,” said Joe as he poured a pint of Red Hook for me and a glass of wine for her. “Want me to come by and pick them up?”

He ignored Des’ response and wiped the counter with a bleach-laden cloth.

I noticed that Joe had a black eye. A real black, blue and yellow one that blended well with his unshaven chin.

“What happened, Joe?” I asked.

He grunted.

“Lost an argument with Doris is my bet,” said Des.

“None o’ your business,” replied Joe.

It was not like him to be grumpy so I left it alone. But Des persisted.

“Come on, Joe,” she cajoled. “Tell all. We don’t get much excitement around here.”

At that moment Henry and Dave walked in and raised a hand in salute to all the regulars. They sat and reached out for their drinks.

“That’s quite a shiner you’ve got,” said Harry. “Jealous husband?”

There was a titter of laughter around the bar as Joe stood with his hands on the counter glowering at the grinning faces on the other side.

“It’s a long story.”

“How long?” Harry asked.

“About two drinks worth.”

“Let’s hear it,” said Des impatiently.

“Well,” started Joe. “Doris is visiting her mother this week so I sat up late on Wednesday watching TV in my pajamas. I let the dogs out at about eleven o’clock and they started barking. After a half hour of their noise I decided I’d better go out and see what was up. The wind was blowing hard and both dogs were standing by the fence with their hackles raised. I had my flashlight so I shined it across the lawn to see what had them so riled up.”

Joe swigged at his coffee and wiped his moustache with the back of his hand. “I saw a black shape racing across the lawn in the darkness and my first thought was, BEAR! But it was too small for that so I reckoned it was a cat or possum or something. Anyway, I threw my flashlight at it and missed. Straight through the window of my neighbor’s garden shed. All the lights came on and he rushed out into his yard waving a gun. Someone must have dialed 911 because a patrol car and the paramedics arrived before I could calm him and the dogs down.” Joe paused to light up a cigarette. “Know what it was?”

“No,” we chorused. “What was it?”

“A black plastic, planter pot that got loose and was rolling around in the wind.”

“So what happened then?” said Des.

“I’m getting there,” grumbled Joe. “There I was, in my PJs trying to corral the dogs when that idiot police chief of ours opens the garden gate, points his gun at me as if he was auditioning for “LA Law” and yells “FREEZE!” As if I wasn’t already.”

Joe stopped to pour a round of drinks and refresh his coffee.

“The worst part was,” he continued, “the wind had blown the back door shut and locked. I had to smash my own window to get back in the house after the cops and Fire Department guys left.”

The laughter finally subsided and we all went back to our drinks. But Des sat glaring at Joe.

“So, how did you get the black eye, Joe?” she demanded. “What happened?”

Joe paused and grinned. “Oh, that,” he said. “Got up during the night and walked into the door of the closet.”

For a nice girl, Des knows a lot of very rude words.

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