The Fall, Part 1: The frying pan
"Jesus, I have to get outta here."
Thats all he kept saying, just: "Jesus, I gotta leave." or "Oh god, what am I doing here?" The question wasn't really directed at anyone in particular, unless Jesus had decided to make a surprise visit to the pub; maybe I'm just unaware. The bar tender though, was fully aware of the mumbling man beside me, and had decided to assume the question was directed at him and replied.
"Yeah, why DONT ya just leave? Been mumbling for half an hour now, same damn shit over and over. And you know what really gets me.."
The bar tender leaned across the counter, certainly a menacing gesture coming from this guy. He was at least 6'3, and completely bald, with a enough veins in his thick muscled neck to give it a slight eerie bluish tint in the half light of the pub. Judging by his 5 o'clock shadow I'd say it was about 11
"The abso-FUCKING-lutly worst part of this is..."
He leaned further over the counter. I could see the pure loathing in his squinty eyes, peering out from under the two caterpillars im sure he fondly referred to as his eye brows. "...you haven't spent a dime since you came in here..."
This came as a little shock to me, I was certain he must have been plastered. It must have been a visible shock, because the bar tender then swung his death gaze upon me.
"Wadda YOU want pal?"
It was more of a war cry than a question. I quickly pulled out a wod of cash and threw it on the counter, and mumbled something about needing another beer. He took the cash roughly from the table, counting it in his enormous calloused hands, always with one suspicious eye trained on me. You could nearly envision some monstrous cartoon villian, if a single cent were missing steam would shoot out of his ears and he'd throw me across the room. Eventually he was satified, slammed a glass in front of me, and then turned his rage elsewhere.
I sipped cautiously on my beer, hoping the alcohol would calm my nerves after such a seemingly near death experience. I was only in this joint because I could be, I had just turned 21 a week earlier, and thought it might be fun to head out to the bar and see how that whole scene broke down. So far so good I guess, I'm still alive.
"you..YOU! YOUYOUYOUYOUYOU! Your gonna die!"
Perhaps I spoke too soon. Apparently the mad man next to me seemed to think so, and was quite vocal about it. His eyes had gone wide, his mouth pulled into a terrible grimace; he was pointing directly at me and trembling while he screamed. The mumbling mad man had become a shouting mad man. This whole time I had just been listening to his crazy rant, never really bothering to take in his appearance. However, considering the man was very clearly addressing me, it would be highly impolite not to turn to him while he spoke/screamed. He was a smaller, wiry man, all arms and legs. His long wispy hair came just below his bulging eyes, and all during his tirade he would impulsively brush it back to better leer at me. Taking in his filthy cloths and demented gaze, it wasn't surprising anymore that this fellow had no dimes for the bartender. He clearly didn't need a drink.
"I'm sorry, I um..." I was trying to think of somthing that wouldn't further agitate this man, "Uh, I'm not quite sure what you mean."
"But you must! You HAVE to understand, or you'll die! You die there!"
He was almost standing now and his eye looked like they were about to dive right out of his skull and burrow into my own. But at the same time, as he looked at me, it was like he was seeing something else, or somewhere else. It sent a shiver up my spine just making eye contact.
"I, uh, I'm not really, um..." Maybe it was the beer and liqueur, but I just couldn't stomach another second of this. Those yellow eyes held real fear, not the kind you get from watching a movie, or being in th dark. The kind you get when you know something truly awful...when you know that your going to...
"Oh for CHRIST SAKE!" Here comes the cavalry, my cartoon villain turned hero. He swept out from behind the bar, and with one hand lifted the little, crazy, twitching, shouting, creature into the air.
"I've seriously had enough, you're going out!"
The man thrashed in his hands, like a fish pulled from the water. He was maniacally clawing and grabbing at everyone in his path, but luckily his path was headed straight for the heavy double doors.
"NO, NO WAIT. HES GONNA DIE! Stay away from it! Just stay away! Red Cedar! Red-" But before he could mutter another word, the bartender tossed him to the night (not quite as humorously and painlessly as I had envisioned earlier.)
I turned back to my drink, taking it in my unsteady hands and pounding the rest. So far going to the pub has not been an enjoyable experience. The bar tender was just slipping back behind the counter now, he looked somehow placid now, one might go so far as to call him jolly looking. I guess all he really needs is a little exercise and he'd be a much more agreeable guy. Just then he noticed me looking in his direction, and then I followed his eyes from me to my empty glass, and back and fourth. All the jolly melted off his face like a snowman in july.
"you think, that just cause some crazy yapps at ya,you deserve a free round? HUH?! Well listen right good," and I did. "If I got a FUCKING nickel for every GOD DAMN CRAZY that screamed nonsensical shit at me, I'd put em all in a bag and use it to beat the living PISS out of you!" Having listened very carefully, I weighed my options and decided it might be a good time to leave. They always say "quite while your ahead" and tonight I think ahead simply means not being beaten with a sack of nickels.
Thats all he kept saying, just: "Jesus, I gotta leave." or "Oh god, what am I doing here?" The question wasn't really directed at anyone in particular, unless Jesus had decided to make a surprise visit to the pub; maybe I'm just unaware. The bar tender though, was fully aware of the mumbling man beside me, and had decided to assume the question was directed at him and replied.
"Yeah, why DONT ya just leave? Been mumbling for half an hour now, same damn shit over and over. And you know what really gets me.."
The bar tender leaned across the counter, certainly a menacing gesture coming from this guy. He was at least 6'3, and completely bald, with a enough veins in his thick muscled neck to give it a slight eerie bluish tint in the half light of the pub. Judging by his 5 o'clock shadow I'd say it was about 11
"The abso-FUCKING-lutly worst part of this is..."
He leaned further over the counter. I could see the pure loathing in his squinty eyes, peering out from under the two caterpillars im sure he fondly referred to as his eye brows. "...you haven't spent a dime since you came in here..."
This came as a little shock to me, I was certain he must have been plastered. It must have been a visible shock, because the bar tender then swung his death gaze upon me.
"Wadda YOU want pal?"
It was more of a war cry than a question. I quickly pulled out a wod of cash and threw it on the counter, and mumbled something about needing another beer. He took the cash roughly from the table, counting it in his enormous calloused hands, always with one suspicious eye trained on me. You could nearly envision some monstrous cartoon villian, if a single cent were missing steam would shoot out of his ears and he'd throw me across the room. Eventually he was satified, slammed a glass in front of me, and then turned his rage elsewhere.
I sipped cautiously on my beer, hoping the alcohol would calm my nerves after such a seemingly near death experience. I was only in this joint because I could be, I had just turned 21 a week earlier, and thought it might be fun to head out to the bar and see how that whole scene broke down. So far so good I guess, I'm still alive.
"you..YOU! YOUYOUYOUYOUYOU! Your gonna die!"
Perhaps I spoke too soon. Apparently the mad man next to me seemed to think so, and was quite vocal about it. His eyes had gone wide, his mouth pulled into a terrible grimace; he was pointing directly at me and trembling while he screamed. The mumbling mad man had become a shouting mad man. This whole time I had just been listening to his crazy rant, never really bothering to take in his appearance. However, considering the man was very clearly addressing me, it would be highly impolite not to turn to him while he spoke/screamed. He was a smaller, wiry man, all arms and legs. His long wispy hair came just below his bulging eyes, and all during his tirade he would impulsively brush it back to better leer at me. Taking in his filthy cloths and demented gaze, it wasn't surprising anymore that this fellow had no dimes for the bartender. He clearly didn't need a drink.
"I'm sorry, I um..." I was trying to think of somthing that wouldn't further agitate this man, "Uh, I'm not quite sure what you mean."
"But you must! You HAVE to understand, or you'll die! You die there!"
He was almost standing now and his eye looked like they were about to dive right out of his skull and burrow into my own. But at the same time, as he looked at me, it was like he was seeing something else, or somewhere else. It sent a shiver up my spine just making eye contact.
"I, uh, I'm not really, um..." Maybe it was the beer and liqueur, but I just couldn't stomach another second of this. Those yellow eyes held real fear, not the kind you get from watching a movie, or being in th dark. The kind you get when you know something truly awful...when you know that your going to...
"Oh for CHRIST SAKE!" Here comes the cavalry, my cartoon villain turned hero. He swept out from behind the bar, and with one hand lifted the little, crazy, twitching, shouting, creature into the air.
"I've seriously had enough, you're going out!"
The man thrashed in his hands, like a fish pulled from the water. He was maniacally clawing and grabbing at everyone in his path, but luckily his path was headed straight for the heavy double doors.
"NO, NO WAIT. HES GONNA DIE! Stay away from it! Just stay away! Red Cedar! Red-" But before he could mutter another word, the bartender tossed him to the night (not quite as humorously and painlessly as I had envisioned earlier.)
I turned back to my drink, taking it in my unsteady hands and pounding the rest. So far going to the pub has not been an enjoyable experience. The bar tender was just slipping back behind the counter now, he looked somehow placid now, one might go so far as to call him jolly looking. I guess all he really needs is a little exercise and he'd be a much more agreeable guy. Just then he noticed me looking in his direction, and then I followed his eyes from me to my empty glass, and back and fourth. All the jolly melted off his face like a snowman in july.
"you think, that just cause some crazy yapps at ya,you deserve a free round? HUH?! Well listen right good," and I did. "If I got a FUCKING nickel for every GOD DAMN CRAZY that screamed nonsensical shit at me, I'd put em all in a bag and use it to beat the living PISS out of you!" Having listened very carefully, I weighed my options and decided it might be a good time to leave. They always say "quite while your ahead" and tonight I think ahead simply means not being beaten with a sack of nickels.