Pappy's was a chicken joint here in town years ago. It was owned and operated by a crusty old ex Marine named...well...Pappy.
The first time I went to Pappy's, and I wondered why there were hundreds of driver's licences cut in half and pinned up on the wall behind the bar. The picture halfs, to be specific. I recognized some of the pics. In fact, my husband's younger brother's mug was hanging there on the wall as well.
Here's how the guys all discovered where the pics came from.
My young brother in law was a bit of a hell raiser. They were all in Pappy's one night, and my BIL tried to buy a beer. He was underage...and had a fake ID. Pappy looked the ID over, narrowed his eyes, and said in a very scary hiss. "Boy...you trying to show me a fake ID?" Apparently, my BIL was familiar with the drill, and ran like hell for the door. Pappy grabbed a large metal pot and a wrench, beating the pot as loud as he could. The other patrons (including the husband and friends) rose as one, screamming "YEEEAHHHH PAPPY!!!! WHOOOOO!!!!!!! Fists pumpting the air, feet pounding the floor, tables thumping up and down. BIL is hauling ass down the street.
Pappy produces a large pair of scissors and ceremoniously lops the fake ID in half, adding the picture half to the Hall of Shame behind him.
People would frequently take fake ID's to Pappy on purpose, because if they could fool Pappy, they could fool anyone. But it was nigh impossible to fool Pappy.
The first time I went to Pappy's, and I wondered why there were hundreds of driver's licences cut in half and pinned up on the wall behind the bar. The picture halfs, to be specific. I recognized some of the pics. In fact, my husband's younger brother's mug was hanging there on the wall as well.
Here's how the guys all discovered where the pics came from.
My young brother in law was a bit of a hell raiser. They were all in Pappy's one night, and my BIL tried to buy a beer. He was underage...and had a fake ID. Pappy looked the ID over, narrowed his eyes, and said in a very scary hiss. "Boy...you trying to show me a fake ID?" Apparently, my BIL was familiar with the drill, and ran like hell for the door. Pappy grabbed a large metal pot and a wrench, beating the pot as loud as he could. The other patrons (including the husband and friends) rose as one, screamming "YEEEAHHHH PAPPY!!!! WHOOOOO!!!!!!! Fists pumpting the air, feet pounding the floor, tables thumping up and down. BIL is hauling ass down the street.
Pappy produces a large pair of scissors and ceremoniously lops the fake ID in half, adding the picture half to the Hall of Shame behind him.
People would frequently take fake ID's to Pappy on purpose, because if they could fool Pappy, they could fool anyone. But it was nigh impossible to fool Pappy.
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