It’s getting late and I have finally finished work but there was no way I am heading straight home. I’ve had a hard day and need to relax with a wee drink. Remembering the SD Pub around the corner, I hop into my car and head over.
I pull into the parking lot and find a spot, taking a moment to have a quick stretch before I head in.
The pub is atypical for the area. Probably the closest thing you’d find to an “Olde English pub” without actually being in Olde England. I open the front door and notice the fireplace is lit in the one corner casting a warm glow over the bar. Music can be heard. It is quiet and unrecognizable, but it is relaxing none the less. The window shades are drawn so little of the natural light can get in. Only small electric ‘lanterns’ illuminated the room giving it that old ‘country pub’ feel.
Stepping up to the bar, I greet the bartender and ask for a pint. “Been busy today?” I questioned.
“Not at all Max,” he answered as he poured. “You’re the first one in today, but I expect it to pick up.”
The bartender places the glass in front of me and starts up my tab.
“Yep,” the barman continued, “things will pick up tonight. I wouldn’t want to have to close the place.” He smiled and continued cleaning the glasses.
“Not much chance of that happening.” I replied with a laugh.
I let out a sigh of relaxation and take a sip of my beer………
Funny how a place so dark can be so cheerful, I thought as I pulled the door open and went inside. I’d been in before, many times, but the way the place was so pleasant struck me every time.
There was already some people in there as I went up to the bar and took the barstool at the end by the wall.
“Hiya, Spoons,” the barkeep said, coming down the bar. “How’s it going?”
“'Malright,” I reply. “Had better days, but had some worse ones too, so I guess it’s going okay.”
“Pint?” he asked, reaching for a glass.
“You know me too well,” I smiled. “Yes, a pint. Of that nice dark lager you’ve got, thanks.”
“Sure thing,” he said as he began to fill the glass.
A pile of the day’s newspapers was on the bar, and I was sifting through them when the pint was served up. The first sip of the pint tasted good, and I could see at least one or two more of them before the night ended…
“I’ll have a pint please. Stella or Fosters’ll do, I’m not fussy. And a whisky chaser - Jamiesons.”
“On it’s way,” the barman replies.
I collect my pint and chaser, sit down in the comfy chair in the corner and get out my book. It’s been a long day and the alcohol seeps its way into my bloodstream as I read. I might order some food in a while - a doorstep ham and pickle sandwich.
I look up from my book to see Maximum Override and Bad News Baboon engaged in a little light conversation at the counter. There’s Spoons with his newspaper. It’s a quiet night - cosy. I wander over and ask if he can spare a section from the paper - I’ve been losing track of current affairs lately and this might be a good opportunity.
“Of course” Spoons says, “Will the features magazine do you for now?”.
“That’ll be fine.”
There’s a feature on the etiquette of horse racing. I flick through it while I wait for the others to arrive.
“Hi all. Just getting a little practice in in the hopes of beating lurker at darts one of these nights. Anyone wanna shoot some with me?” she asks as she walks up to the bar and orders a pint of Killians and some chicken fingers to munch on while she throws.
I casually walk out from the bathroom, adjust my tie and try to brush the paint chips from my shoulder.
(That Bathroom window was smaller than I thought)
I lean up to the bar, “Rye and Ginger, my good man…”
“Right-O” he says in a somewhat familiar voice.
Waiting for my drink I can’t help but notice the familiar jaunt of the Bartender. Something about him strikes me as refreshing and I get this feeling…
But before I can think about it too much my drink arrives, just the way I like it. Everyone seems very relaxed and I see no reason to join them. I step over to the fireplace, toss another log on and park my self in a chair. The dancing flames will keep me occupied for a while, I just want to soak up this moment… so peaceful!
I extend my greeting to the newcomers as they enter.
**Bad News Baboon ** sit’s on a stool just down from me. I look over and nod a greeting with a smile.
BNB sits quietly sipping the chocolate milk (with bendy straw).
I lean over and extend my hand, “Hi. I’m Max. I’m ‘kinda’ new here and I don’t think we’ve met. By the way, did you just see that guy throw the log on the gas fire?”
::dalovindj eases on in. Stand-up bass is heard in the background::
“Hey Dj! How’s it goin’? A Guinness?”
Nah. I think I better go with Corona. this could be one of those marathons baby, dig? Hit me with a double shot of the Jaegermeister too, if you don’t mind my friend.
“Comin’ right up. But you know the rules, gotta turn off your theme music in here.”
::snaps. standup bass sound fades out::
No sweat.
“Here’s your drinks.”
Cheers.
::Downs shot. Pushes lime into Corona, turns upside down, and then takes a nice pull::
Ahhhh. Now that’s love. I’ll just chill out. Some more of those New York cats will be here real soon. Actually, I gotta have a $5 on me for the Jukebox somewhere . . .
screech-owl stands in the doorway, allowing her eyes to adjust to the dimness, and to breathe in the quiet ambiance. Quiet music is wonderful, dreading the moment someone starts up the jukebox. Unless it’s quiet jazz. That’s good too.
“G’ev’nin’! Anything dark and on tap will do. Muchly thanked.”
Picks up her drink and a bowl of popcorn, takes a seat, sprawls out languidly (one arm over the back of the chair) and watches TruePisces fling darts impressively.
“Oy, parking was terrible. I had to park on the other side of the eBay Mall next to the Onion Newstand.”
"Yeah, seems the kids from Napster High have had no place to go lately, so they all come around and just hang out at ICQ or IRC Mall. What’ll it be, Tret?’
'why do you always ask, you know it’s a Guinness. And let me havethe chess set you got behind the bar."
“just thinking you might change your mind for once. Here ya go.” Hands over chess set. “Do you want the clock, too?”
“Sure, hopefully somebody will want to play some blitz.”
The bartender reaches behind him and to get the clock, handing it over. “Here ya are, I’ll have Natalie bring the beer over to ya.” The bartender gives me a knowing wink. Natalie, with her dark eyes and wry smile makes me very weak and mumbly
“Thanks,”’ I mumble and I head over to an open table, trying to wrangle a chess game out of the many already assembled.
Manservant Hecubus walks through, muttering about himself in the third person, looking around and refusing to use boldface tags, and walks out with a pint of beer.
TheOtherOne strolls casually in, bellies up to the bar and orders himself a pint of Sammy Smith oatmeal stout, and a shot of whiskey for the hell of it.
“Hard day?” the barkeep asks.
“Make it a double, my friend” I mutter.
TheOtherOne glances around the room, considers his chess skills, remembers he is no good at darts,he doesn’t know anyone here, and decides to relax in yet another corner with his beat up old guitar.
