One day back when Jimmy still owned the Tunnel Bar, a stranger walked in, took out a twenty dollar bill, sat down and asked for a Seagram’s 7 with water. Jimmy put a shot glass and a chaser in front of the man and then turned around and walked a few steps away to get the quart of whiskey. When he returned to the customer, the man’s arms were in a circle on the bar with his head resting in the middle.
Jimmy reached over and gently shook the man by a shoulder, “Buddy?” The only response was the head lolling to the side, jaw hanging, and unseeing eyes wide open. “HE’S DEAD! WHAT AM I GONNA DO?”
One of the regulars — Tommy, dishwasher at the Tunnel Diner — spoke up, “Hey, pal, buy me a drink? He didn’t say no, Jimmy, gi’mme somethin’ outta that twenty.”
Jimmy, bottle of Seagram’s 7 conveniently in hand, gathered up the glasses, took everything over to Tommy, poured a shot, and then rung up the sale out of the dead man’s cash. Everyone in the tavern now started yelling over to the corpse. Jimmy kept selling drinks until the money was gone, at that point calling 911.
