A Christmas story with a familiar face behind the bar.
‘Tis the season…right?
I guess that depends on who you ask.
As you know – Ike is not the sappy, emotional type, so how do you think he handles the onslaught of forced sentimentality every December?
It probably won’t surprise you…but let’s find out.
Don’t Call Me Carol
“So, tell me, why don’t you like Christmas?” Tiki asked as he handed Ike a bottle of Budweiser.
“No offense, Tiki,” Ike said, “but you’re a bartender at The Golden Lion…not a shrink.”
Tiki held his hands up, palms out. “Sorry. Just making conversation.”
“I don’t come here to chat.”
Tiki decided to try his conversational skills on the bikini-clad blonde at the end of the bar. Ike turned his attention to his beer.
He closed his eyes and saw Dodger. The ten-year-old memory hadn’t faded at all.
Dodger sat against the cave wall and dug into his MRE. Ike stood at…
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