In Which We Laugh
On an overlooked side street in a little port town, a neon sign casts its light on stairs leading down to an old, red door. Walk down the stairs and you’ll find something unexpected inside. A quick scan of the bar reveals an old boxing ring in the back that’s seen better days and televisions scattered around, “big games” of every type spilling off their glowing screens. Behind the wrap-around bar stands a burly bartender, towel slung over his shoulder as he grinningly chats with a customer, but that’s where any similarity to the bar atmosphere you’ve come to expect ends. Instead of a seedy, depressing, run-down bar where people get together to “hook up” or drown their troubles, you find a scene of general merriment and frivolity. Folks are giggling, snickering, chuckling and outright guffawing. Taking another look around, your eyes search for the stage from which there must surely be a stand-up comedian plying his trade, but find nothing to explain this atmosphere of fun and laughter.
Curious to find out how this came to be, you find a place at the bar, where the well-built Irish gentleman has pulled the towel off his shoulder to wipe out a glass. He notices your bemused expression and walks over, a mischievous grin lighting his face. His thick brogue is impossible to mistake as he speaks.
“This your first time to our fair establishment, friend?” His eyes sparkle as you confirm his suspicions. “Well, then, ye’ll be wantin’ ta read our consent form b’fore orderin’ anythin’ ta drink”. He nods toward the end of the bar.
Following his nod, your eye lights on a display file standing on the bar next a glass full of ink pens. In a standing file that looks like a taller version of a napkin holder, you find several copies of a type-written sheet of paper patterned in tie-dye, its logo done up in a playful font. You stare at the paper in complete disbelief, mind sliding away from the words on the page. The bartender sees your confusion and leans a casual hip against the inner bar. He launches into an explanation of the history of the bar; how back in the day it served the same purpose as most bars: folks would come in to get tanked, then get into knock-down-drag-out fights that busted up both the patrons and the place. The owners had the boxing ring installed to reduce the tension, a fight club right there in the bar to work things out when they got too hot. Too often, the fights couldn’t be contained and replacing stock and furniture got too expensive in an economy gone downhill. The owners decided they needed a more effective solution and their talks took creative turn. One owner was a retired dentist; he suggested they substitute nitrous oxide for the carbon dioxide in their beer and soda. Legalities were observed, the name of the bar changed, and a new era of fun and prosperity began.
As he explains, the boxing ring, the laughing patrons, the consent form and the bar logo all finally fall into place. Understanding dawns on your own face and with a grin, you eagerly reach for a pen to sign the consent form.
After all, what else could you expect from a bar called The BrewHaHa?
The above was written as an entry in LJ Idol Season 7, Week 7 for the therealljidol community. Constructive criticism is always welcomed - and if you liked it, please vote in the poll. Copyright mine, all rights reserved, etc. Thanks for taking the time to read. ~gaea_rising~
Curious to find out how this came to be, you find a place at the bar, where the well-built Irish gentleman has pulled the towel off his shoulder to wipe out a glass. He notices your bemused expression and walks over, a mischievous grin lighting his face. His thick brogue is impossible to mistake as he speaks.
“This your first time to our fair establishment, friend?” His eyes sparkle as you confirm his suspicions. “Well, then, ye’ll be wantin’ ta read our consent form b’fore orderin’ anythin’ ta drink”. He nods toward the end of the bar.
Following his nod, your eye lights on a display file standing on the bar next a glass full of ink pens. In a standing file that looks like a taller version of a napkin holder, you find several copies of a type-written sheet of paper patterned in tie-dye, its logo done up in a playful font. You stare at the paper in complete disbelief, mind sliding away from the words on the page. The bartender sees your confusion and leans a casual hip against the inner bar. He launches into an explanation of the history of the bar; how back in the day it served the same purpose as most bars: folks would come in to get tanked, then get into knock-down-drag-out fights that busted up both the patrons and the place. The owners had the boxing ring installed to reduce the tension, a fight club right there in the bar to work things out when they got too hot. Too often, the fights couldn’t be contained and replacing stock and furniture got too expensive in an economy gone downhill. The owners decided they needed a more effective solution and their talks took creative turn. One owner was a retired dentist; he suggested they substitute nitrous oxide for the carbon dioxide in their beer and soda. Legalities were observed, the name of the bar changed, and a new era of fun and prosperity began.
As he explains, the boxing ring, the laughing patrons, the consent form and the bar logo all finally fall into place. Understanding dawns on your own face and with a grin, you eagerly reach for a pen to sign the consent form.
After all, what else could you expect from a bar called The BrewHaHa?
The above was written as an entry in LJ Idol Season 7, Week 7 for the therealljidol community. Constructive criticism is always welcomed - and if you liked it, please vote in the poll. Copyright mine, all rights reserved, etc. Thanks for taking the time to read. ~gaea_rising~