73 : Blowing Smoke

73/365
2/22/2010

Characters:
Smoker
Patron

Setting:
Outdoor Patio

- – - – -

People sit upon an outdoor café patio.  One man reaches into his breast pocket and pulls out a cigar, lights it up, and puffs away.  Behind him, a café Patron smells the smoke and is disturbed by the smoke.  Patron turns around to the Smoker.

Patron:            Excuse me?

Smoker continues puffing away, ignoring the Patron.

Patron:            Hello; excuse me?

Smoker turns around.

Smoker:            Hello?  Yes.

Patron:            Hi.  Yeah, I was wondering if you could take that elsewhere.  It’s sort of bothering me and you’re not allowed to anyway out here.

Smoker:            Who says?  It’s an outdoor patio.

Patron:            Well, the restaurant says… there’s a sign right over there.

Smoker:            Sign-shmine.  This is my tax-paying right.

Patron:            I’m sorry but I don’t care.  My asthma says if you don’t put that out, I may have to exercise my own tax-paying right.

Smoker:            Yeah, well you and your asthma can go find another table.

Smoker turns around and sits facing their own table again, back to the patron.

Patron:            I’m sorry you feel that way.  I wish it didn’t come down to this.

Patron pulls out a black gun from their bag and walks over with their mug and sits across from the smoker.

Smoker:            I’m sorry.  I don’t believe you were invited to sit there.

Patron:            I’m sorry too, because now I have to take action into my own hands.  So you can either put out that cigar right now, or…

Smoker:            Or?

Patron puts his gun on the table.

Patron:            Or we will meet again.  Except you will never see me when we do.

Smoker:            Is that a threat?

Patron:            Maybe.  The difference right now is that you’re putting my life at risk as we speak; all I’ve done is scare you a little.  So what do you say you put out that cigar and never step foot here at my favorite café again.

Smoker:            But this is my favorite café, too.

Patron:            Guess what… I don’t care.  Fuck you; get out.

Smoker:            Fuck you!  I’m not going anywhere!

Patron: Don’t make me call the cops.

Smoker: Really?  Over a cigar?  You’re sick, man.  Real sick.

Patron:            Sick of people like you.  And don’t forget to take your fucking cigar either.

Smoker looks at the Patron as he stands next to the chair he was just sitting in.

Patron:            What are you looking at?  Go on, get lost.  You’re business isn’t wanted here anymore.

Smoker:            Oh yeah?  I doubt the owner thinks that.

Patron:            Guess what?  I am the owner.  And now, I reserve the right to respect you.  Not so big and bad now, are you?

Smoker:            This isn’t the last you’ll hear from me; or my lawyer.

Patron:            Blah, blah, blah.  You’re not the first dickhead smoker I’ve dealt with here before.  Ta-ta!

Smoker:            You know what… I lied when I said this place was my favorite.  There are plenty of cafes that will allow me to smoke as much as I like!  So hah!

Smoker turns to leave.

Patron:            Oh, one last thing…

Smoker:            Oh yeah?  What?

Patron points the gun at the Smoker, shoots his water gun and puts out the cigar.

Smoker:            What the fuck!?

Smoker storms out of the café.

Patron: I love owning my own business.

Patron kicks his feet up onto the table and sips from his mug.

Patron:            Oh, that’s hot.

Patron sprays a few shots of his gun into the mug; sips again.

Patron:            Mmmm, perfect.