GZ Tales: Percival's Tale Part 2

 

“Weirdo,” said a man in leather and chains passing in the opposite direction of the business woman.

Percival only knew of mohawks on native Indians. The short purple one on the man in leather was ghastly. Percival blinked several times, but all the sights remained. It was so much to take in that he quickly felt dizzy. He didn’t even realize he had holstered his pistol, but had his hand on the handle.

“Must be one of those reenactors,” said another man walking by.

“Reenactors,” Percival muttered.

“Hey, is that gun real?” another woman asked.

Captain Percival moved his hand away from his pistol and realized that he was the one who didn’t belong here. He had to find someplace to think. He had to find someplace to learn about where he was. With several nervous glances around himself, Percival turned and walked quickly down a street less busy.

Not far away, down that same street, Vicky washed down the bar in bored slow motion. Only 3 people were in Frank’s Bar that late afternoon and Vicky didn’t expect many more. She tied back her reddish blonde hair as she gazed at the loving couple in the far corner. It would be nice just to have someone to talk to. Sadly, the only person who wanted to talk to her was old Scat. Vicky wanted nothing to do with Scat and usually tried to avoid eye contact. Inevitably, this never worked, and Scat would always wind up at the bar. Just the lint in his beard made her wonder if he ever looked in a mirror. Scat drank too much, smelled terrible and was always far too interested in Vicky for her comfort. He reminded her of some bad cheese she found behind her refrigerator once.

“Hey, Doll,” Scat said with a toothy grin as he sat at the bar. He rubbed his grimy fingers on the beer mug, smearing it. Vicky never looked forward to touching anything Scat touched.

“Doesn’t look like you need a refill yet,” Vicky looked away hoping for someone new to come in the door.

“Aw, you know I love talking to you, Doll. You know, we should go out sometime.”

“You’re really killing me, Scat,” Vicky moved a few feet down the bar and pretended to see something out the window.

“Well, I’ve warned you before; I am a lady killer.”

Vicky tried to ignore Scat. Seeing the man outside seemed like a sudden dream come true. Even with the man’s Civil War attire, she thought he had to be safer company than the old coot. Vicky couldn’t take her eyes off him. He looked lost and kept staring at the bar. Vicky thought he was gathering courage to come in. Maybe he’d never been in a bar before; Vicky had no idea. As he finally came toward the building, Vicky felt elation that someone, anyone, was coming in.

Captain Percival couldn’t steady his nerves as he put a hand on the door latch. All the strange lights were like no tavern he had ever known. Still, he always learned about new places at taverns and pubs. It seemed like the safest idea, or he hoped it was. With a deep breath, Percival opened the door and stepped inside.

At first, he found relief in the fact that the place was not crowded. Then he felt their eyes on him and knew he still stood out as odd in this strange new land. The couple in the corner shrugged and went back to their conversation. Vicky and Scat still stared at him in wonder.

“Can I help you?” Vicky finally found her voice as Percival approached the bar.

“I hope so. I’m afraid I’m lost.”

“Well, I don’t know where they are doing any Civil War reenactments right now.”

“Reenactment,” Percival said slowly, “I’ve been hearing that a lot today.”

“Well sure!” Scat said, “That’s what they call it when you fellers get all dressed up and act out your battles and stuff. Can’t say it’s real popular around here though.”

“Act out,” Percival repeated again, “Do you mean like a play?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Scat said, “I’m sure you would know better than me.”

“A very loud play,” Vicky interjected, wondering about Percival’s state of mind. “Maybe you should have a drink?”

Percival stepped closer to the bar, thinking that would be a fine idea. That’s when Vicky noticed the pistol on his hip.

“Uh, we don’t allow guns in here.”

Percival paused, “Oh. I’m sorry.” To the surprise of everyone in the bar, Percival drew the pistol and offered it to Vicky handle first. Vicky had no idea what to do or say.

“You know,” Scat said, “It’s probably just a replica. All them fellers have ‘em. I’m sure it wouldn’t be any problem.”

“Yeah. Right.” Vicky said, “Why don’t you just leave it in the holster?”

“Okay,” Percival holstered the pistol and decided not to correct them on its status as a replica or not.

The couple in the corner decided to leave quietly, but Vicky and Scat were too busy to notice. Percival’s mind spun as he considered all he heard so far.