It’ll Do
Copyright William J. Conaway, 1989
Episode 10 – George Washington Farragut
The day George Washington Farragut announced that he was going to get married. He brought his bride-to-be, Gertrude (we didn’t know her), to the It’ll Do with him. Now, Gertrude was—I’m not going to go into details—very definitely a woman.
George wore funny spectacles and, I’d guess, was about ten pounds shy of her. George never cut much of a figure, but Lord, you’d have to admit that every damned pound of her seemed to be put in the right places.
This was fine, and we were all happy for George. We never considered that he’d date some girl, much less get married to one. Folks that hang out in the It’ll Do will up and surprise you.
There seemed to be one problem, though. Gertrude lived about ten miles out of town and she had three brothers who weren’t noted for their hospitality. The smallest of the three must have stood about 6’2 and the others went up from there. I think maybe they were Vikings. As it turned out, they didn’t think too much of George as a proper husband for Gertrude.
One of them (I don’t know which one) came into the It’ll Do while George and Gertrude were sitting there, just having a beer. This guy (I don’t know what his name was) clomped over in front of George.
“Get up, you son-of-a-bitch. Then I’m going to put you so far down that Gertrude won’t even notice you when she steps over you.”
I didn’t know whether to call Toot, or go for some of the equipment I keep under the bar.
Whatever George did, he did it pretty fast. It had something to do with this fellow’s neck.
One way or another, this Viking fell to the floor just as if he’d gotten a taste of Henry the VIII’s head-ax. Of course I called Toot and he sent Penoble over to drag this guy out of the bar. It doesn’t help trade to have a Viking stretched out on the floor in the middle of the place. George didn’t seem to be particularly disturbed and, I think, Gertrude was kind of enjoying the whole thing. I’d hate to think what would have happened if George had been wearing that old sword he sometimes carries around.
Anyway, things were getting back to normal after Penoble hauled off this hulk—until the other two brothers pushed their way in the door. I just, kind of quietly, laid my sawed-off 12 gauge on the bar. George came over and leaned on the bar.
“Put it away,” he said.
Well, I didn’t think that was a good idea, but I don’t like violence and, besides, my doctor has advised me to avoid stress. So I did. The next thing I saw was that one of the two remaining brothers was down (I suppose it was one of those neck-things again) and the last brother—6’5″, I swear— was looking over George as if he was getting ready to eat him.
“Toot, where are you when I really need you?” I asked myself.
“Alfred,” George said. “why don’t you just take your brother here home and put him to bed?”
“Not without a piece of you first,” Alfred said.
Now, this Alfred was tall and muscular and all-that. George definitely was not.
“O.K.,” George said.
The next thing I knew, this Alfred had his head sticking through my juke box. It sure couldn’t have been very comfortable for him, but it was my juke box and his head was in it!
“Sully,” George said,”I’d like another round for Gertrude and myself.”
I had to call Toot again. He was pretty understanding (although he couldn’t figure out how George had put down all three of Gertrude’s brothers) this time, he came over himself—and grabbed a free dark beer before hauling off the last two brothers across the vacant lot to the jail.
Before he left, I asked him,”Do you understand any of this?”
“Not me, that’s for sure,” Toot said, shaking his head.
Vera answered. “It’s Love, that’s what.”
It was the first time Toot or I (we did it together) gave a Bride away. I think George Washington Farragut was pleased.
Living and Writing in Mexico 
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