The story of my life

I was tipsy last night and thought of this story. It pretty much sums up my entire childhood. My grandfather was a bail bondsmen one of his best friends was a lawyer. The lawyer later became my mother's boyfriend for about 11 years or so. He was a good friend of the whole family and this was our first meeting. My grandfather died 11 years ago. The anniversary was a month ago. I had been thinking about other stories for days and days. I decided to post this one in hopes of purging it from the steel trap it is on the verge of getting stuck in.

The story begins:

A bail bondsmen and a lawyer walk into a bar. The bar is Ego's in Austin at Riverside and Congress, I believe, circa 1990. They take seats at different tables. In walks the bail bondsmen's daughter with her daughter. Everyone sits at his table and is laughing and talking. The bail bondsmen asks his granddaughter to come over to him, because he has something to say to her. He was sort of well know in the bar for a number of things, but mainly his sense of humor. So there were a few sideways glances when he whispered something into the ear of his 7 year old granddaughter. (Now picture this part in slow motion) The little girl hears what he has to say and nods knowingly. Maybe she gives him a wink. (That didn't really happen I just thought it would be cool.) Still in slow motion, she walks up to the lawyer. The bar falls silent. The little girl tells the lawyer that she can count to three. Obviously she can count to three. She can read at this point. The lawyer is totally uninterested in anything she has to say. So she asks you want to hear? The lawyer obliges her though he noticeably doesn't want to. The little girl does just as she was told and stomps her foot three times like someone has taught a horse to count. Laughter. Lots of laughter after that. I don't think I get it even still, but boy they thought it was the funniest thing on the face of the Earth. It continued to be a joke, while they were still alive anyways.

I haven't thought about this in years and years. I remember it like it was yesterday. The things I remember most are the colors. The bar was incredibly amber. Somehow amber light oozed out of the pores of the walls. My grandfather's hair was pretty red a little on the brown side. The lawyer's hair was stark white. I was fascinated by the jukebox. It was right by the door and next to that was a cigarette machine that was just as equally fascinating. The things you remember.