I’m at the bar, guy says, Clint…do you have a coin?  I need to make a flip. Ok, I say. I open up the register, get him a quarter, hand it to him, go back to bartending.

I hear the quarter clank on the bar.

Two minutes later, he says, Clint. Here’s the coin. Thanks. I ask, everything go ok?  He says, mysteriously, I got an answer.

I hope the question wasn’t, should I go get my AK47, gun down everyone in the bar?

That would suck.

From my heart to yours,

Clint Curtis. Bartender.

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