He took one last drag on his cigarette and snapped it away. Then with that faint, fleeting smile playing about his lips, he faced the firing squad; erect and motionless, proud and disdainful, Walter Mitty the Undefeated, inscrutable to the last. The firing squad asked the infamous question: “Any last words?” Mitty then pointed his hand, as if it were a gun, towards the shooters, “bang…” He said it softly, as if he’d come to accept death. “What?!” The firing squad were suddenly confused by the gesture. The warden came out to see what was happening, but shouted something unexpected: “Walter!”…
“Walter! Let’s go I’m done here! Walter? Are you listening? It’s unbelievable I got into a fight with the cashier, he refused to sell me the socks at the sale price!” Mrs. Mitty’s face was hot with frustration, “They said they weren’t on sale but the tag said! 2 for 50 cents!” Walter agreed absent-mindedly “Oh really? Ok.”
“Let’s go already! Start the car.” Mrs. Mitty took her seat as Walter Mitty started the car. He carefully navigated out of the parking lot as to not upset Mrs. Mitty even more than she already was, but the effort was futile: “Walter, do you smell that? Wait, have you been smoking again? I’ve been telling you not to smoke! It’s dreadful for you!” Walter replied defensively, “Oh jeez, I’m just finishing up this last packet, I promised I’d quit and I will…”
“Good! You know I hate the smoke; it’s suffocating. Not to mention that now we have to wash those clothes or you’ll smell like cigarettes!”
“Yea, I know..” Wanting to distract himself from the grumpy wife sitting next to him, he looks out the window and sees a bar with anti-alcohol posters around it. They looked like they could date to a few years back…
…”Quick drive away! We got em!” The gangsters laughed as they started the car.
“Alright let’s go!” The car sped up and took its leave as the bar behind them went up in flames. “That’s what they get for refusing to sell our beer, they definitely had it comin’” said Tony with a mischievous grin, “Alright Mitty, what’s next?” Mitty thought a moment before responding, “There’s one more bar down here that needs persuadin’.” The notorious pair made their way up to the old bar, Lorettie’s Bar & Grill. There were propaganda posters all around it declaring things like, “Gin is the devil’s juice!” Or “Liquor is a killer!” As the pair strolled into the bar, the host didn’t seem the least bit afraid. Once they came up closer, however they could see the anxiety and sweat dripping from the host’s forehead. “What brings you two here? You know I’ve been selling your beer and no one else’s…” Tony laughed with a derisive tone, “Sure pal… You certain you ain’t been selling someone else’s booze, say… Al Falone’s kinda liquor?” The host went pale as if coreopsis had just set in, “No- uh.. of course not” Mitty smirked at him, “Oh really, eh… Then you won’t mind if I take a swig from our beer right now?” The host, Paul Bradly, was really beginning to panic, just by looking at the three you could tell something was going on. The customers, however stayed silent. They knew that Mitty and his partner were trouble. Paul slowly and sneakily put his hand behind him; he was trying to reach for his pistol, but Mitty was quicker. He pulled out his revolver as quickly as it took Paul to blink, “I don’t think so.” Mitty was very intimidating, the delivery of that line made everyone in the bar begin to whisper.
“Alright! I’ll sell your beer! Just please…spare me…”
“Ok, don’t soil yourself just yet. Tony, go get the beer from the trunk I’ll be watching this guy.”
“Sure thing pal, be right back! As for you,” Tony pointed menacingly at the host, “don’t you go nowhere!” He began to laugh at his own joke. Mitty was still pointing the gun at Paul, “So how’s the family?” Paul ignored the question and ducked really fast while getting his weapon. “Shoot!” Gunshots fired! Pew pew! Bing bing! Pa Pa! Pandemonium consumed the bar. Customers screeched and cried for help. Beer bottles smashed. Cutlery falling to the ground. Plates and glasses shattering. Tony had shown up for backup, “I got your back Mitty!” Sirens were ringing in the distance. “Time to blow this joint! We’ll be back Paul! You just wait, you’ll regret this!” They fled, but they were gonna be back and they meant business.