I had spent my evening scaring women in a cemetery, with the help of a pack of rowdy coyotes. The exertion from that effort had a drowsy, drowsy effect on me, and I was quickly falling into a semi-nap every time we weren’t running from coyotes. So when I found my means of self-propulsion to my home, I did take that opportunity, and began the process of getting myself off to bed while also doing a drawing or two.
It was during this time that my phone rang. I looked up from my drawing at the little rectangle of light that glows to accompany the ringing of the phone. I reached over and opened the device with a yawn.
“Howdy” I say
“Hi there” says Dannie, and she explains that no one is answering the mighty bugle call of “party” tonight, and she needs someone to accompany her into the warm fall evening, to get a drink.
I say, “I’m beat, sugar plumb, but I could come out for A drink.” So I set out with my bike, and three drink tickets I had procured from my time at the hotel. When I had got these little tokens of booziness, the bar hadn’t opened yet, and I stowed them away in my wallet and forgotten about them. Earlier in the day I heard people talking about the bar. “R bar” and how it was already failing, only a month after being open. So what time like now to remember the tickets and convince Dannie that this was the place to go. It was an easily won ambition, as it turns out everyone loves free booze!
I stowed my bike in Dannie’s entryway, at the top of the stairs, she pulled on a sweater kissed her man, and then we were off and away. I wasn’t sure exactly of where the bar was located only a general direction and an address, which meant little to me. However we seemed to be guided by the spirits of extra-terrestrial alcoholics, directly to the place.
The rumors were true; the place was sparkling new and clean, and almost completely vacant, when we sat at the bar we were immediately taken care of. I awkwardly advanced my drink tickets across the surface of the bar; unsure whether they would still be good, afraid of the classic exchange of “no I’m afraid this isn’t valid”. I shouldn’t have been afraid, the “R bar” is unique in that, they have every inclination to dispense free booze at an alarming rate. Somehow through a series of mishaps my three drink tickets ended up procuring us five high potency inebritives. ( I just invented that word and I think it should stick, somebody call Webster) two shots of fine tequila, two fat tires and a cheap beer. We drank these beasts down and sat at the bar talking about our bounty and Karaoke. Phone calls were made during this time, and soon two other gentlemen appeared one Gus, and one Bobby, and for the first time all evening someone from our group was exchanging money for drinks. Gus had some whiskeys of a less abrasive nature, and he ordered Bobby whiskeys of a more abrasive nature (because that’s what he likes, that’s what I like, OH OH! The call of the Wild Turkey)
I had already abstained from buying more drinks, on account of my already apparent drunkenness. It had been quite a time since I had drunk anything but wine. However on the arrival of our friends it was hard to say no to another shot and a half, which was more than enuff to make me a public skeptical, with fantastic marital arts skills and yelling screaming and slobbering on the jukebox that didn’t accept quarters. How was I to deal with myself, how was my coin purse to deal with the jukebox. Dannie and I bought three songs with Gus’ money and he finished off the selections. Then I was kicking mid air and I lay on the ground, and Bobby sat on me. At this point it was nearing one o’clock, and we wandered off, stopping briefly so that I could get some fresh air and cigarettes, I was alternating between ugly sickness, and incredible illumination, and I lay on the sidewalk in my long grey coat and we talked about circumcisions’. I was expressing an interest in going home, being wildly tired and drunk, but my bike was locked up, and all options that didn’t include everyone going home did not interest me, so I came with to the next bar and bought one dollars worth of songs on a jukebox that did accept quarters, and a dollar twenty five on a game of pool. Bobby paid the last quarter and played a no holds bar game of impossible pool, had anyone been watching the game would have gone down in history, but a tree falling in the woods and all that. Let me tell you though, it was epic. The ground shock, glass cracked, balls went sailing off the table at speeds unknown to science and we were like gods locked in eternal combat. About halfway through the table ate our pool que. We almost continued our game with a handicap for Bobby, taking one of his balls as the new que, but we decided complaining was fun. I got all the money back from the table, which also included one of Bobby’s quarters; I had somehow forgotten that until just now. When our game continued as of course it did, no matter the returned change it ended in a strange and confusing draw as our cue was lost again and all that was left was the eight ball and one of Bobby’s balls. We got confused and declared Bobby the winner.
We returned to the bar and the others were talking, talking, talking, so I demanded a cigarette and we went out back to smoke it and conspired to cut important electrical wiring off of the back of the building. When I got back in shit was quiet and music-les deciding to fix the problem I went and put fifty cents in the jukebox and selected “Rocking the Casaba” by the Clash. Dancing back to the bar I didn’t notice the bar tender walk by me and pull the plug to the machine coming back with an ugly sentence on his breath “I hate that fucking song”. My mirth and childish pranks suddenly turned fuck ugly, and I started screaming about my fifty cents.
A girl from down near the end of the bar “What did you pick that?!” (Incredulous, but meek)
“Fuck yes I did” myself (violent and loud)
Suddenly the bar was split in two and the bar tender kept his deplorable self occupied at the other end of the bar, while I threw by glass of water all over his bar, and a gentleman of exceptional quality slid fifty cents down the bar which I accepted, so as not to break everyone’s glasses and jump on the bar screaming and pointing.
It was time to leave, and I was suddenly very sober and very angry and ready to indulge in some property damage. So we escaped into the night by my suggestion, and I went to the dizzying immensity of sleep.
Total money expended: 75 cents.
