Theunhappy thought crawled across his mind, tendrils of depression lacing throughhis brain. He took it out on his would-be customers, as he always did.
"Barclosed. Come back tomorrow."
Insteadof turning around, they shuffled drunkenly into the main part of the bar,staring at him blankly.
"Youfucking deaf? Bar closed. You already drunk? Fuck off." Now that they hadinched closer, Old Han adjusted his glasses and saw that there was somethingwrong with his new customers. The woman on the left was limping badly, andcrusted blood had dried to her leg. She wore a dirty grey bathrobe that lookedlike it had recently taken a dip in a mud puddle. The man behind her wasbalding and one of his ears was hanging from the side of his head.
"Getthe fuck out. You leave now. I call cops!" They continued to plod towardshim. Old Han pulled the mop from the bucket, set it on the floor and broke itin half with one quick kick. Armed with the sharp end of the now broken mop, headvanced on the customers. He swung at the woman, hitting her in the ribs. Shedidn't make so much as a sound. She merely reached for him clumsily. Old Hanstuck out his foot and shoved the woman down with his free hand. She tumbled tothe ground without grace, her bathrobe flying open and exposing her nudity.
Theman behind her was now upon him. He was big, especially when standing next tothe five-foot-six Han. His meaty paws grasped for Han, and he stepped to theside, jumped in the air and dealt him a stinging blow to the side of the headwith the mop handle. It did no good. The man's ear fell to the ground.
OldHan's heart raced in his chest. He delivered blow after blow to the tall man.His face rained blood on the already stained floor, but still he came. Hancursed loudly throughout the process, and when the lady finally got to herfeet, he found himself trapped between the two. Instinct kicked in and heflipped the broken broom handle in his hand so that he could use it as a spear.He leapt at the tall man, driving the broom handle into the fleshy part of histhroat and straight into his brain. The man fell to the ground. Han spun aroundand gave the woman a short but powerful kick in the kneecap. Her leg buckledand she fell to the side. There was no scream of pain, just mindlessprogression. Han was about to pull the mop handle free and finish her off whenthe door to the bar opened and two more lazy Americans tottered in.
Theymoved quicker than the others, and Old Han found himself trapped. He hadneedlessly boarded up all of the back exits and windows years ago after he hadnearly lost his liquor license thanks to the youths that loved to sneak intohis bar and drink beer. It kept the minors out, but it was also keeping him in.
Ashe was pondering the situation, he felt the woman wrap her clammy hand aroundhis ankle. He could feel the chill of her claw through the cloth of his pants.He stomped on her wrist, breaking the bone and freeing himself from her grip.Fear took hold of him, and he dove over the bar, looking for some way to putroom between himself and his attackers.
"Whatdo you want?" he yelled. One of the men began walking behind the bar. Hegrabbed a bottle of liquor and tossed it at the man. It clunked off of himharmlessly, so he grabbed another and continued the process. After three erranttosses, he finally hit the man in the head. He stumbled for a second, blindedby the alcohol and glass stuck in his face. The other man, dressed in a brightpuffy vest, climbed awkwardly over the bar. Old Han pulled another bottle offthe shelf and brought it crashing down over the man's head. Alcohol and glasssprayed everywhere. Without thinking, Han reached into his pocket and pulledout the only American possession he had ever appreciated, a silver-plated Zippolighter featuring a half-naked redhead with her back turned in a seductivepose. She looked over her shoulder as if she were simply waiting for someone tocome and take her on the spot. He opened the lighter, struck the flint wheel,and touched the flame to the man's face. The alcohol immediately caught onfire, and for the first time, it seemed as if the creature actually reacted.
Itflailed on the bar, trying to put itself out in vain and spreading the firethroughout the bar at the same time. Old Han looked at the other man, coveredin alcohol with glass sticking out of his face. The glint in his eye was notone of insanity, but cold calculated simplicity. Though he loved the lighter,he tossed it at the man, who immediately went up in flames. As the burning manbehind the bar flailed around, lighting even more things on fire, Old Han tookhis chance and vaulted over the bar. The movement went unnoticed by the twomen, as their eyes had turned into dried up raisins within moments of theflames hitting their face. Old Han ran from the bar laughing.
Hestood out front watching the flames. Adrenaline surged through his body. Theflames grew to the point where he could see them through the windows of thebar. When he felt satisfied that the fire could not be put out, only then didhe reach into his pocket and pulled out an ancient cell phone. He dialed 911,secretly hoping that they wouldn't answer. Even better... the line was busy. Asthe fire roared and crackled, he could hear exploding liquor bottles inside.This was the break he had been waiting for. For years, he had thought oftorching his own bar, but he was never quite sure that he could get away withit. Now it was done.
OldHan had dutifully paid his insurance for years. Even when the place had falleninto disrepair and the money had stopped coming in, he had always made sure tokeep the insurance policy up to
