Put a GUN to my head and you still don't get my GUITAR

[danduffy]

Page 142 and 143 from my book

Another time, I finished a gig early and I stopped in a local bar before I went home. The owner was a friend of mine for a long time so I stopped in to see him every once in a
while, it was about two in the morning as I sat at the bar talking to this guy I knew from the neighborhood. We were the only people there. I had my Country Club Guitar in its Grey plush lined case leaning against the bar next to me. I heard the door to the bar open behind me. I looked at my friend behind the bar and he was looking at me with a strange look on his face. Suddenly I felt something cold push against my
neck. IT WAS A GUN. Suddenly another guy was standing next to my friend behind the bar with a gun to his head. He came in the back entrance. The guy leaned over and patted me down to see if I had a gun. He said “we want nothing from you, all we want is the bank” The “BANK” is the money taken in all day and put in a small metal box and hidden somewhere in the bar. Only a small amount of cash is left in the cash register at a time. Just enough to make change. REMEMBER, if you ever pull a stickup, ask for the bank. The robber told me and the guy next to me, to get up , don’t turn around, and go into the MEN’S ROOM. I got up, grabbed the handle of my guitar case and started to walk to the men’s room. He pushed the gun into the back of my head as he escorted us there. He didn’t say anything about my cherished guitar that I held onto very tightly.

While we were in the men’s room I could hear them threatening my friend, the owner. I knew he would give them the bank because he wasn’t stupid and there wasn’t that much money in the box anyway. There never was. The guy in the men’s room with me was starting to panic and was

trying to rip the bars off the window trying to get out. The metal bars were to prevent guy’s from breaking in ( WHAT A JOKE). I told him to be quiet or they would fill us full of holes
and flush us down the toilet. I wrapped my money in a paper towel and hid it in the bottom of the waste basket. I probably had more money on me, than was in the bar’s bank. I didn’t want to take a chance in case they changed their minds and wanted our cash too. I left a few bucks in my pocket just to keep them happy if they did.

After a while it was very quiet, so I went out. The other guy started to pull on the bars again as I left the men’s room. I called out the owners name but he didn’t answer. I found him tied and gagged, in the kitchen, in the back. He was still shaking as he called the police. The police took two hours to get there. When they finally got there they went through the usual questions, paper work and were gone. The next afternoon while I was teaching , I remembered the gig money I hid in the trash basket in the men’s room. When I was done teaching I went straight to the bar. I thought it would still be there because the men’s room never got cleaned until someone complained. When I got there I went straight to the men’s room and the waste basket. The money was still there just like I left it. I put it in my money clip and went out to the bar. My friend came over and said “THEY GOT THE BANK.” All I thought was I STILL HAVE MY COUNTRY CLUB GUITAR. Believe it or not that’s the only thing I was thinking about through the whole thing.