We drove to WASPY Mel's in my pick-up. When we got there, there was already a long row of trucks. My truck was the only one sans bumper stickers. As we passed more and more bumper stickers, Colin grew more and more uneasy. By about the fifth Ol' Glory, he was visibly upset. Someone from inside tossed a Johnny Walker bottle through a window. I just kept walking because it was a standard incident, but he acted like a Brit during an air raid. As we entered, I noticed the local barflies sucking down some longnecks. They were unlabeled.
I was greeted by Big Mel, the restaurant owner. He acknowledged my t-shirt, saying, "'America Fuck Yeah'? You damn right! How about the two beers on the house, Mr. Guvment?" It was a well known fact that the government set me up here, so to them, I was just Mr. Guvment. I don't even think they knew my name, which was fine by the people who sent me here.
"Sounds good, Mel," I answered. He cracked one open and handed one to me and Colin.
"Who's the fuckin' smurf?" he asked.
"This is Colin Humblin. Colin, Mel. Mel, Colin," I introduced them.
"Hello, Mel," Colin chimed.
"Lose the goddamn accent," I whispered surreptitiously.
"Man, you dress and talk like a fruit. You're on thin ice," Mel growled.
I put myself between Mel and Colin. "Hey, everyone, let's not get angry before dinner," I interjected. As I started leading Colin to a corner table, I said, "Mel, why don't you bring us some deer?"
"But I want a Caesar salad."
"Shut up, idiot."
After sitting in silence, Mel brought us some venison steaks. He made a snarl at Colin, who obviously cringed. It was pretty funny to watch except for the fact that, since I brought him, I was in just as much danger. The venison was pretty good this night. It was served with ketchup, but neither Colin nor I used it. Midway through the meal, Colin looked up at me with a disgusted face. He spit out some buckshot, which made a loud clatter on the plate. Every eye in the place turned and looked at us.
Yanking out my Beretta, I pointed it at Mel. With these people, you have to be the one to draw first. I cocked it, and Mel brought out his huge elephant rifle from behind the counter. Everyone else drew their guns too. There were pistols, shotguns, rifles, and even a submachine gun, all pointed at us.
"Get the fuck outta here, Smurf," Mel said loudly.
"Look, Mel, we don't want any trouble."
"Shut it, Guvment. You're the first one dead. Your buddy is gonna get the pig treatment," he said. It didn't take a knowledge of Deliverance to realize what that meant.
Colin flipped the table. The shooting had begun. I don't think I got a round off, and the table wasn't going to last very long. Thinking quickly, I took some of the unlabeled beer, took a paper napkin, and made a very poor man's Molotov. It flew over our shield. There was an explosion. I turned around and started firing at anything that moved.
"We move. Now!" I yelled at Colin. I grabbed the sobbing Scotsman, and we ran out of the door. There was some overhead gunfire, but I'm pretty sure they couldn't see through the fire that was spreading across the floor and only ended up hitting each other. My shirt caught on fire, and I threw it off. It was only a matter of time before the fire was going to hit the rest of the beer. Jumping in the driver's seat, I turned the truck on. Colin piled in soon after.
Driving off towards my government-bought mansion, Colin fell sideways. There was an explosion in the background. I wondered what Jimmy was thinking. Turning to Colin, I said, "I think you better tell me what your proposition is."
"Maybe later," he replied.
"Are you touching my abs?" I asked Colin, who was in the process of touching my now bare chest. "Get off me."
I knew that I'd have to pack up, not because the residents were going to be after me. I had a gate to keep them out, and they had trouble with screw-off tops. But the government would be after me now. And I still didn't know what the proposition was. It was time to leave Clayton, though.