(By the very talented Donna Mehalko)
"The kilt was invented for the three things the Scottish Army did most: running, fucking, and pissing."
The guy next to me was far drunker than I was, but that didn't stop me from listening. It's often late at night in little dive bars full or old men and drunk barmaids that I hear the best stories. This guy looked like he crawled out of a war movie, and not one made in the last fifty years. He had a scar across his cheek, boots that hadn't polished in years, and a drink in front of him with an umbrella that bumped into his face everytime he took a drink.
"Well, it sure works," I said, not sure of the correct response.
"You do a lot of running, boy?" he asked, pushing the umbrella to one side before sucking on the straw.
"More of the other two, I suppose."
By the time he was done laughing he was on his way out, and I wasn't even sure what had happened. Sometimes, I suppose, we just have to take what we're offered and leave the rest well enough alone.