“Pay your debt. Give us the money,” a tall, tattooed, terrifying looking man says to the bartender in the pub.
“I cannot pay you now. Please, come back tomorrow.”
“You said the same yesterday. Are you playing with us?”
“No. Honestly I don’t have the money.”
“You are lying,” the debt collector says and grabs the bartender’s shirt. He pulls him half-way over the bar. “Do not lie to me. Look, I am nobody’s postman. I don’t come here to inform you. I come here for the money. You will pay tomorrow. It is your last chance. Do you understand?”
“Yes sir. I will give you the money.”
The debt-collector pulls him over the bar and lets him fall on the ground, head first. The bartender uses his hands to ease the fall but he hits the floor with his head. His body falls on the floor, lifeless.
“Man, you killed him. What shall we tell the boss now?”
“We will tell him he didn’t want to pay. We save ourselves a trip here. He would not pay anyway. Where would he take the money from? Nobody comes to this shithole.”
He kicks into a chair. It flies across the room. On the way out, he breaks several chairs and tables.
“I am a debt collector. You either pay your debt, or you die.”
Originally posted 2020-06-09 22:40:00.