Returning To The Head Of The Table

While dining at an exclusive restaurant overlooking the streaming gulf on the first Saturday in February, Hal seemed worried, despite saving face channeling business ideas while socially networking, “is there something bothering you?” Dale inquired.

Fidgeting, Hal explained the dilemma, “we were forced off our turf.”

“And they sent you over to the Tapeta surface,” Dale responded.

“I know,” Hal quietly understood, “but that new Fangless Romanian guy Vladislav came into our place and started claiming things, about those four years old and up.”

Sitting back in his chair Dale relaxed a bit, “he did give you upfront money? Didn’t he?”

“Well, yes,” Hal admitted, “he knows we are winners and that advance cash will be used wisely.”

“So, what is the problem?”

“You know this Vladislav guy found out even board-certified workers were out of the money,”

Dale heard the disturbing news before the server interrupted the pair with high price daily specials,

“Holy Bull!” Hal exclaimed, “the Robert D Lewis Steak they have here looks really good,”

“Chef Menteur puts on a show when creating all his culinary presentations,”

Back at the cattle ranch Vladislav took a second creating a first course opportunity while chit chatting with his holy bull before turning his attention away from the stock. “Mr. Kenny,” he hissed at the trapped honeymooners, “you and your lovely bride, the maiden doing all the claiming, did you enjoy your stay?”

Not hearing a peep from the tied up two Vladislav continued, “you thought love unlimited would be your golden trust, yet in true honesty it put you out of the money and on to my exotic menu.”

Not hearing a response, the glory fame seeker glistened his eyes, returning to the beefsteak investment, “Bella Miura, you are such a winner to me,” Vladislav planted the breeder’s pedestal into the egotistical bull’s mind, “would you do me a favor and Kilkenny Bella? Make it a good show.”

Stepping back, he watched Bella Miura charge and the couple quickly separated only for the groom to be instantly trampled. After seeing the new husband in the dirt Vladislav shouted, “Katz that girl and put her in the proper place.”

Earlier the next morning rumors were swirling through the industry plant’s backstretch, “I heard she was Bobby’s candy, found herself out of the money and then that Kenny guy pushed the marriage issue,” one worker stated as a car weaved its way through the parking area, “there is Mr. Jackson, he will know what to do.” Finding a parking space, a gentleman emerged respectfully closing the driver’s side.

“Tell me, is Vladislav here?”

“Who wants to know?”

“My name is Jackson and I used to own this place last century,” the stranger communicating with the new generation answered, “called it Jackson’s Webb.”

“And if you got caught up in Jackson’s Webb?” Vladislav appeared, “you got caught up in it.”

“That is right,” Jackson clarified.

“Is there reason for the visit?”

“Yes, my time here, is with purpose,” Jackson stood his ground, “I did not just show up.”

“And” Vladislav still information fished.

“I hear there was a maiden having an option to do some claiming,” Jackson started to explain, “and, you did not like that,”

Suddenly, the passenger inside the sporty car wearing a fashionable outfit worthy of a mall mannequin entered the scene, “Vladislav,” she said in a strong tone, “I just wanted to thank you for taking care of Kenny,”

“Who are you?” Vladislav gritted his teeth.

“Gun Maestro, for the win ” the lady announced giving a small pistol to Jackson.

Having long shot potential the lady’s secret pea weapon rang out striking a chord leaving Vladislav lying dead allowing an employee to comment, “wow, Bobby Jackson has returned to his webb.”

Later that evening, Hal, and Dale grateful to be back on the fast good track, stood in Valet outside the steakhouse when the attendant approached them, “did you enjoy your evening entree?” He asked.

“Yes, we did,” Hal complemented.

“It had a human touch type flavor,” Dale finished the review.