Below is one of Anthony's short stories called "Joe's Bar"


A flash of light coated Joe’s back and side of his face. Thunder immediately followed making his hands tremble as he stepped into the bar. Shuffling his feet, he staggered to the center table and let gravity flop him into one of the seats.

            Wiping his face dry, he tried to straighten up and look respectable as he leaned against the table for stability. His eyes struggled to focus on his blurred surroundings. He didn’t recall being in this water hole before. But it didn’t matter as long as there was a something to drink and someone to serve it.

            A timid waitress slowly approached him; her voice was a garbled mess to Joe’s ears.

            “Get me a drink.” Joe lifted his head and motioned to the bar. “Whatever’s on tap.”

            She stood silent for a moment pondering his order.       

            “Now!” he shouted, followed by another earthshaking thunderbolt.

            Cowering from his tone, she left to fill his order.

            Joe’s eyelids were heavy and his head bobbed until the waitress returned with his drink. He was so very tired. All he really wanted to do was to go home and get some sleep.

            Reaching for his wallet, he opened it up to pay her. Money and photo’s poured out and onto the table, displaying family pictures of his wife and two young children.

            Their focus fell onto the family photo as Joe respectfully wiped his unstable hand clean before picking it up. “This is my wife and kids.” A long silent gaze at their faces made the waitress uncomfortable. “She is so lovely. She’s everything to me. My soul-mate, my rock, my best friend.” His speech was slurred and difficult to understand.

            Lightning blared through the windows, shining on the picture in his hand.

            He wiped off the drips running down his forehead to ensure they wouldn’t land on his family. “My god, how long has it been since I’ve seen them? Eleven months?” Tears swelled up in his eyes at the thought.

            “See my son, Sean? We used to play catch in the backyard all the time, even in the winter. He’s a natural.” Joe bit his lip as the memories came rushing back. “I promised him I’d take him to a professional baseball game someday. I gave him my word, and now it’s too late.” Joe broke down and began crying.

            Stepping back from the table, the waitress began to leave.

            “No, don’t go,” Joe pleaded with her. “Here’s my daughter.” Joe pointed at the picture again with a shaking finger. “She turned three today.” Lifting the photo to his lips he placed a kiss on it. “Happy birthday, Peanut.” A strained smile fought off thin lips of grief and anguish. “I miss you. Daddy loves his little girl. Don’t you ever forget it.”

            A flash of light blasted into the room as the window shattered inward, showering Joe and the waitress with small glass fragments. Jumping for cover, he knocked over the table as his family drifted across the floor, out of reach.

            The front door slammed open and two men in full desert camo military outfits rushed in, pointing their weapons around the room, searching every corner with their trained eyes.

            One of them picked up the lady and set her in a corner chair, while the other leaned down to Joe who was slowly crawling towards his family.

            “I’m coming babe,” Joe shouted, ignoring the two other men. “Keep the kids safe, I’m on my way.” Inch by inch he clambered until he reached out to grasp the photo, holding it tight.

            “Jesus Christ, Joe,” The dark haired man said, looking down at him. “Are you okay? We thought we lost you.” Flipping Joe over to his back, he was shocked at the sight.

            Joe looked at the face of his friend Daniel. “Hey buddy, do me a favor. Take Sean to a professional baseball game and give my daughter and wife a hug for me.”

            An exit wound from a bullet was on Joe’s forehead. Blood was smeared across his face and soaked into Joe’s army fatigues. The waitress was an elderly lady, whose house Joe had entered just as he had been shot. Water from the glass she had given him was now mixing with his blood which pooled near his neck.

            Dan covered the bullet entryway near his ear as well as the exit wound, as the fire-fight outside continued to light up the sky. “Let’s get you home to do that yourself.”