The drunks never remember me. They came here to forget.
It Was morning. Too early for me, but not for my fans. Some have already ran through their wallets and are calling for tabs. They cant remember that everyone's remembered. I know who pays up and who doesn't, whose a shit disturber and whose the pisser. For the most part we get along fine. Some lunch customers are showing up now, people after a long night on the sleepy Vancouver streets. Some guy is asking me for some wire, he keeps asking for it but i have no idea what he is talking about. Leave me alone, i ve got shit to do. I get back to my post and wipe down some glasses.
I notice HIM sitting alone in the corner of the pub, two fisting. He is as happy as a clam. I ask my buddy whether he has paid up already, knowing full well the answer. I watch him sitting there, sloshing and wavering, yammering to himself. I recall our previous encounters, he looks at me and recalls nothing. He pops up onto his feet and starts moving around the bar, making his way over to where the wire guy is hanging some pictures.
The drunk puts his drinks down as wire guy shakes his hand in protest, and wavers on the rickety table. Wire guy points back at the picture. Latent thoughts enrage me to critical and i start moving over there with my fists clenched tight.
My dramatic entrance doesn't stun the guy one single bit as he grins me a friendly welcome. I yell in his face about how he was not to ever come back and demand money for past offenses. He simply smiles and picks up his two drinks. I yell at him to get out, unaffected by being killed by kindness. I grab him by his arm and pull, causing his sunset daiquiri to release the rim-perched slice of pineapple onto my bare forearm.
Its not until we are near the door that his body tenses up. His one concern has come to fruition, and i will now bare the bone breaking terror of not drinking at 1pm on a Saturday sunny afternoon. His heels dig into the ground and his shoulder blades push into my chest. I stumble back a bit but regain footing quickly and brace his weight. He is now shaking his head frantically protesting and apologizing. He turns to face me. His fear snaps into rage about as fast as i pluck the drinks from his soiled hands. His eyes bulge and pupils contract when the city street daylight hits him through the open door. He is now screaming in my face ,spittle hitting my chin. I turn away revolted, and he storms off.
- Edditing credit to Margaret for spotting a time error. Originally stated as 11am, redacted to 1pm after discussion with the editor.
- Edditing credit to Richard for capitalization of HIM. Originally stated as him, causing confusion with subject identification.
I notice HIM sitting alone in the corner of the pub, two fisting. He is as happy as a clam. I ask my buddy whether he has paid up already, knowing full well the answer. I watch him sitting there, sloshing and wavering, yammering to himself. I recall our previous encounters, he looks at me and recalls nothing. He pops up onto his feet and starts moving around the bar, making his way over to where the wire guy is hanging some pictures.
The drunk puts his drinks down as wire guy shakes his hand in protest, and wavers on the rickety table. Wire guy points back at the picture. Latent thoughts enrage me to critical and i start moving over there with my fists clenched tight.
My dramatic entrance doesn't stun the guy one single bit as he grins me a friendly welcome. I yell in his face about how he was not to ever come back and demand money for past offenses. He simply smiles and picks up his two drinks. I yell at him to get out, unaffected by being killed by kindness. I grab him by his arm and pull, causing his sunset daiquiri to release the rim-perched slice of pineapple onto my bare forearm.
Its not until we are near the door that his body tenses up. His one concern has come to fruition, and i will now bare the bone breaking terror of not drinking at 1pm on a Saturday sunny afternoon. His heels dig into the ground and his shoulder blades push into my chest. I stumble back a bit but regain footing quickly and brace his weight. He is now shaking his head frantically protesting and apologizing. He turns to face me. His fear snaps into rage about as fast as i pluck the drinks from his soiled hands. His eyes bulge and pupils contract when the city street daylight hits him through the open door. He is now screaming in my face ,spittle hitting my chin. I turn away revolted, and he storms off.
- Edditing credit to Margaret for spotting a time error. Originally stated as 11am, redacted to 1pm after discussion with the editor.
- Edditing credit to Richard for capitalization of HIM. Originally stated as him, causing confusion with subject identification.