Only Game In Town

Despite being out of the money inside a Daytona red sports car that had seen better days at the beach a city slicker pulled up and put the modern machine into the first parking spot he saw in the Scottish village. For Nathan, the auto was the final thing left from the time he went broke, and the four-wheel gentle gem was a façade to the bankrupted reality which haunted him while he escaped to the country.

Only reason the expensive token was in his grasp was the concrete capitalist instructed him if he wanted British pounds to even things up, “Go racing Nathan and soon we would celebrate your memorial.”

Stepping out the former banking hot dog noticed “The Bridge of Memories Irish Pub” and with a spring in his step the social adventure commenced only to be interrupted by nearly tripping over an individual wearing a mouton costume designed to be worn in a wilderness show.

“Welcome to Lochwinnoch,” the youngster with beaver eyes spoke, “we all love a good show.”

“Well, thank you,” Nathan replied opening the historical wooden door.

After taking in a smell that set the stage for visitors to take pictures and locals to chatter with friends Nathan headed straight to a barstool and on cue raised his hand and the server came over to take the order, “I will have a Stella Artois,”

“Right away,” Sophia who worked there for many years exclaimed, “did that lad outside bother you?”

“No,” Nathan was taking back.

Bringing the drink over the worker started to spin a tale, “he was a long shot winner once,” she started, “when he was just a boy,” she paused only to hear nothing.

“Bullseye and he had blood all over his English stock,” she explained.

“Vedo Russo,” another patron added putting the whole scene in its place.

“So, you saw red,” Nathan watched as the brew returned to the bar.

“You speak, Italian,” Sophia took out her notebook,”

“Very little,” Nathan smiled.

“What can I get for Ya,”

“I will have the swan entrée and graham crackers,” Nathan answered.

“Black or white,”

“Whichever one was not really that rich,”

Hearing the request Sophia headed back to the kitchen when the front door opened with the daylight showing its strength.

“It’s Tina again,” the Italian speaking drinker announced with an English vocabulary, “and once again she looks like a winner.”

“Got a good price this time,” Tina proclaimed dressed in her driving attire, “and in a second would you believe I was all paid up.”

And it was then Nathan’s forgot about all that he lacked,

“So, soldier,” Tina stated seeing a stranger and handed her beverage prop, “are you the owner of the sleek roadster out there.”

“Yeah,”

“You know you can make a few bucks around here racing,” Tina suggested, “we love racing.”

“Is racing the only game in town?” Nathan took a sip and Tina sized him up,

“Yup.”