and no response. She concluded, with all the strange things going on, maybe Gloria was just punting back some to sort things out. Cowboy pulled into clubhouse parking lot. As Cowboy held the door open for his mrs, they were talking about a can of paint they'd bought, and whether they should have bought two. Neither he nor she noticed the two or three glares which had, for a second or two, focused in their direction. Neither had the couple noticed that an unusual amount of time had passed before the bartender served them their usual, OleMicks on tap, and the soda for their son, who had b-lined for the racing video, which sat in a corner, nearby some tables. Both were still going on about that paint - that the ceiling would look better with a slightly different color. "And did you see that...well, I'm not sure what it was, over by the..."
Needless to say, it was any wonder Cowboy no longer chose to remain in the truck while his mrs ran inside. The fries were done, Lana took the boat over to one of the tables. A few minutes had passed. The boy ran over to his dad, asking him for some change. "Honey, eat your fries first," Lana glanced at the boat, untouched, "then you can..."
What was that all about? Some terse murmurs a few seats away, came from a source, not normally given to "moods." But that was the thing: thing's weren't normal. And, of all things..! Sonny and Cheryl were splitting up. Lana had heard about it, last week, while in the laundry needs aisle. Overheard it, to be more precise. Lana wasn't one to traffic in gossip, but neither did she care for the possibility that, perhaps, she was intentionally being left out of the loop. Anyway, seemed that way.
Above the bar, a basketball player was just about to make a shot, that would either make or break his team's (yes, this was the vintage league - also, waay out of the loop of winning any regional - let alone, national recognition) winning the game... Anyway, groans erupted around the bar, when the game was rudely preempted by some overly primped-up talking-head.
The game however was like majically forgotten as soon as talking-head dropped a certain name. Almost the dozen or so individuals in the place, were fixated.
"Bummer." Lana mouthed. She liked basketball, and catching atleast part of a game, was a pleasant treat during her busy weekends. She had played varsity in school - that is, for about half the season. But her shooting the hoops days, were put to the skids, when another "girl" had knocked Lana with such force, landing her in the hospital - long enough to having had seriously considered the option to repeat her junior year.
"Oh ...fire!" Lana shook her head, disgusted with talking-face upon the screen. Upon noticing her son was no longer playing Race-Champion, or whatever that thing was called, but was instead glued to that airbrushed "image" on the tv...oh no and NO! She calmly, but immediately, arose out of her seat, and went over to her boy, to chat him up about racing, or whatever he wanted to talk about.
Cowboy noticed some daggery eyes launched at his wife's back. Women! He scratched his forehead. As he reached in his pocket for his phone, he happened to notice, no one else seemed to be browsing upon there's, alone flashing pics of engines, bikes, babes...whatever, to the guy sitting beside him.
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