"They passed a new law today," Bob Reimis annouced to the bar. No one was really paying attention. Neither was Bob. It's alright. John Freebody glanced over and averted his glance when Bob's lips started moving again.
"You're required to get fucked in the ass at least once."
Andy, the normally quiet bartender cast his attention to Bob.
"You're required to get fucked in the ass," Bob repeated -
"At least once?"
"At least once."
Andy went back to wiping the edge of a counter, turning around the corner and continuing along the rim. Jameson, a regular, turned up the TV.
"In today's news, house bill 370 4A passed, requiring that everyone get fucked in the ass at least once."
The patrons gazed quietly. A burly man in a big cowboy hat swung the door open and swaggered into the bar.
"Howdy, pard'ners," he exclaimed to the patrons, "I'm here to uphold the law."
His drawl was thick. The crowd scanned him and noticed that he indeed bore a huge golden star badge upon his breast. This denoted that he was the sheriff. The new law had appropriated the position of sheriff so that it now was chiefly a position involving going from bar to bar to make sure that everyone had been fucked in the ass. Before the night was over, this man would have inspected every rectum in the place. Some said it was a stiff price to pay, but they all agreed it was worth it to make sure that the law was enforced and not ignored. Why even have the law in the first place if nobody was going to check for lawbreakers?
Every man in the bar was sure to comply. Malone's was a respectable place. Most of them, including Bob, had already been fucked in the ass so they had nothing to worry about. The sheriff couldn't tell about John Freebody, so he bent him over a stool and went to work. John was taking it quietly.
The news ended, and a controversial sitcom came on. Its laugh track blared across the bar.
"I hate this show."
Ross Robinson was an opinionated man, but every bar needs one.