This one time, I was drinking at the bar with my f…

This one time, I was drinking at the bar with my friend and we heard this slow, steady, tap, tap, tapping coming up the stairs. Ryan, the bartender, ran over to greet the new arrival, who seemed to be a blind guy with a hat. Would he like a seat? Indeed. Ryan, the joker, sat him next to me at the bar.
So there we were, Phil, me, and the blind stranger, in a line at the bar drinking our beers. Presently the stranger addressed us, “Have you ever seen that bumpersticker, ‘If you’re not a hemorrhoid, Get off my ass?’?” Sure, yeah, that’s a good one. “Well, I founded that bumpersticker. Because you know how much tailgaters suck, I thought that’d be a good one.” Truly, truly, Phil and I, too, hated tailgaters. No point of contention there, although I did wonder a bit about his choice of words… have we seen that bumper sticker, the one that he founded?
Well, it turns out that the stranger, whose name was Garysomethingorother, had also “founded” a great deal of other bumperstickers, the details of which he described over the next twelve minutes. It turns out also that he had indeed seen the bumperstickers he’d founded, as he was not blind from birth but rather by the traumatic effects of a 30-06 shot.
Phil was hanging on every insane word of this, but me, I was getting a little nervous, and the thirty-ought-six story was just too much. I went behind the bar and asked Ryan, could you um… This guy’s really freaking me out, and uh- Ryan understood. We’re sort of close, as I spend more time at the bar then at that place- where I get the beer money- Oh, “work.”
So when Gary went to order his next beer, Ryan politely declined. Astonished, the offended blind man accused Ryan of not selling because he was blind. No, Ryan argued, he was not serving because he was drunk. Gary fought it a little more, calling the barkeep a bigot and whatnot, but eventually gathered his cane and his hat and headed out.
But before he got to the stairs, he paused by a table to point out to the innocents mildly conversing there that that bartender, yeah, him over there, was a bigot and discriminated against him because he was blind. Having made his pejorative peace, he then showed himself to the stairs, and the last thing I heard was a series of tapping clicks of his cane, fading and then ending with a thump as the door closed behind him.
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