Dot Wisenheimer

I went to Tom English's Tavern on Dot Ave after work for a quick pint of Pabst before heading homeways. I sat at the bar next to some nondescript fellow who was nursing his own glass and I said, "Hello." and he said, "Hello."

He kept looking at me without saying anything. It was a crowded bar for 6:30 PM on a Monday but the group sitting next on his other side weren't paying him any attention. He kept looking my way so I decided to break the ice by saying, "I'm not enjoying the snow today."

He said, "I'm not enjoying the snow today." He didn't seem to be much of a conversationalist.

I took a sip of beer. It was nice and fresh. The management keeps the tap lines clean at Tom English's. With my whistle wet, I tried again, "Are the Bruins playing tonight?"

He looked at me and leaned closer, "Are the Bruins playing tonight?" he asked.

All right. I leaned in his direction and asked, "Are you just going to say what I say?"

He leaned back, the palms of his hands on the bar and asked, "Are you just going to say what I say?"

This seemed pretty pointless. I said, "A wisenheimer, eh? I've got better things to do." I picked up my beer and made my way over to the video deer hunting game. As I got out of my chair this guy acted offended and said at the top of his voice, "A wisenheimer, eh? I've got better things to do." Then he turned his head with a jerk so as not to be able to see me even though the people on his right obviously didn't want anything to do with him. I shrugged.

Over at the video game, Pierce said, "You were talking to that clown?" I said yes. He said, "Nobody talks to him when he comes in. He's not a wisenheimer, he's a @##*$#?!!!"

I didn't talk to the gentleman long enough to come up with that label. I won't be talking to him again for any length of time.