Mele Kalikimaka Mr Walker Read Online Free PDF

thing, not even the jarhead in the green sports coat. But being drunk and a fearless US Marine, he had to put on some sort of belligerent act to defend his pal and Norton happened to be closest.
    â€˜Hey, motherfucker! I saw that!’ he bellowed. ‘You pushed my buddy.’
    Les was still seated with one hand on the table and the other round his beer. ‘What are you talking about, you flip?’ he replied indignantly. ‘I never even moved.’
    Green coat rose from the table and slammed down his bottle of beer. ‘You lying sonofabitch!’ he howled. ‘You pushed him. I saw your goddamn arm move.’
    Les was almost going to laugh, but shook his head with disgust instead. ‘Oh go and get yourself fucked,’ he said, and without even getting up, reached across the table and punched green sports coat in the face.
    It wasn’t so much a punch, more a push with Norton’s fist. But it was enough to knock the drunken jarhead back over his stool, split his lip and sit him heavily on his arse. Still seated and oblivious to the punters starting to take an interest in what was going on, Les peered over the table at his second effort when the first marine lurched to his feet, his eyes spinning giddily around in his head. He looked at his mate on the floor, looked at Norton, then his eyes began to bulge out and his stomach started heaving. Les was wondering what the poor silly mug was going to do when he gulped in a breath and let it all go.
    â€˜Oh, you dirty fuckin’ cunt!’ roared Les, jumping to his feet as about a gallon of vomit splattered down in front of him. Most of it splashed across the table, but enough got on Norton’s shirt and some down the front of his jeans. Enough to give Les the shits. Rocking unsteadily on his feet, the marine looked like he was going to heave again, but before he got a chance Les reached over the table and gave him a crisp backhanderthat sat him back down on his arse right where he’d been in the first place. With most of the punters watching avidly now, Les stood there staring at the vomit all over him and wondering how he was going to get it off when the tall bouncer on the door hurried over joined by a more solid one who came from over by the dancefloor.
    â€˜Hey, what’s going on here, man?’ he said. He wasn’t coming on heavy, just doing his job.
    â€˜What’s going on!?’ howled an indignant Norton again. ‘I’m sitting here minding my own bloody business and these two drunken imbeciles start spewing all over me.’ Les pointed to the two marines lying on the floor. ‘Have a look at them. They’re pissed out of their minds.’
    The two bouncers looked at the jarheads on the floor, looked at the sour-smelling vomit all over the table, looked at each other, then looked at Les who glared back at them. ‘What sort of joint are you running here? And have a look at me.’ The two bouncers noticed the lumps of fast food or whatever marinated in tequila slammers clinging to Norton’s shirt and jeans and wrinkled their noses. ‘You’re lucky I don’t sue you,’ Norton howled again. Les was going to take a mouthful of beer, but noticed there was vomit all over the bottle. Instead he gave the two bouncers a filthy look and stormed off before they could make up their minds whether to throw him out, apologise, or what. Before he left, Norton loomed angrily up in front of the girl on the till. ‘And give me back my three dollars,’ he demanded, pointing to his awful-smelling clothes. ‘Unless you want to bloody well clean this up.’ The girl gave Norton a double blink and handed him a five dollar bill. ‘Thank you,’ said Les, with brittle politeness, and stomped out the door.
    The wind was still gusting down the streets running into Kalakau Avenue and every now and again it would force great sheets of rain before it, adding to Norton’s mood as