sitting next to some college types who are confused about their futures,
their pasts, if not their presents. thye can not drink. howls of laughter
at banal deadpans.
in comes the one employee of this place who has professional training and
even a degree in thisrealm.
is this how it works?
this place is wildly busy, and that’s all good. but is htis a religion?
she was sitting at home on a saturday night when the call came that the
place where she works was as busy as its ever been. they are turning
customers away, telling them there is no room here, no seats, no standing
room, go somewhere else. hey, it’s not some butthole bar in
Nowheresville (that’s an Elvis town). theree are other places around. i
think this place has actually reached maximum legal capacity. which i
think is 65 human beings. at present i think there are 4 or maybe 5
employees working a room of at least 60. the bartender is not a happy man
right now but he got his backup in the form of the degree-granted one who
stepped into the maelstrom and got straight to work. now someone cant find
the kahlua, now someone can’t undersand what the asshole customer is
demanding, now someone wants a break, a cigarette break. everyone is tired
already, even the ones who just got here. there is a bizarre looking HERO
sammich on the other side of the counter. i don’t understand it, or where
it came from. o, awesome, now someone wants a MOJITO. i don’t know if it
is the most complicated drink ever concocted but who needs that combat
right now? makes that 2 MOJITI, which are fabulous concoctions, i should
try one this summer, but they are murder on the bartender. aha, i am aout
to tell the bartender, Mojitos for everyone, on my tab
that will lose me friends and disinfluence peoples.
i don’t understand the monstrous HERO sammich on the other side of the
bar. is that really a purse? a handbag? what the fck is it? it looks like
a marbled mass of ham and salami and cheeses, with a strangely decorative
bowl of salad dressing on top, like a crown.
hot babes, homely babes, uneasy dudes, confident dudes. a college girl is
describing an enormous plastic penis, and extending her right hand toward
to northeast as if to clarify what she means by enormous plastic penis.
now she is laughing and absorbing the ambivalent stares from the two
non-plastic dudes on both sides of her.
and my battery is running dry.
oh, jeez, the massive marbles HERO sammich is no sammich at all, it is a
handbag, of bright read and white swirling patterns which, from across the
bar, and in the slight darkness of this place, looked to thee eyes like a
damn sammich. then the woman itting by the fabled sammich of puzzling
enormity reached into the beast and pulled out some lip balm. once i saw
the top flap of sammich skin lifted i knew something was not right with
that sammich.
(sammiches are served in Nowheresville).
