"You're telling me." The vats of beer look shapely through the swirled bottom of the glass. Vats of beer. Vats.
Something settled on the surface of the bar that wasn't paper and wasn't glass. I tried to focus and missed the paper napkin.
"Well?"
"Hell, I'm not talking. I'm drinking." The foam along the sides of the glass shuddered as the bottom hit the wooden board, then slowly began to evaporate.
"Your glass is empty."
"Your hand is empty."
"And?"
"You've got eyes like..."
"Like what?"
"Like the Minnethota sunset."
"Thought you didn't like Minnesota."
"I didn't. Or I hadn't. Tho sinth when does it mather. But I do like sunthseth."
"Spare me the bullshit."
"I ain't teasin' ya, dammith!"
The glass slid almost of its own accord toward the bartender. I like beer, dark beer, light beer, and the wine that's saved for the last....
4 comments:
tell me... well i'd say tell me you didn't ride home after this but you wouldn't be that foolish. i'd say that this interchange is something of a fiction but all your tales have a root in reality. i want you to tell me something, but i don't know what it is...
me neither. seems there is a hunk of my life missing, which I have a window into every once in a while but that quickly passes and somehow riding along the coast in the dark doesn't solve it, nothing seems to solve it. It's just been really bad lately.
"take me out / to the black / tell 'em I ain't coming back /
there's no place / I can't be / since I found Serenity"
"burn the land and boil the sea/
you can't take the sky from me"
You're from sky country, if the northern end of it-- and apparently it's still in you enough to see sunsets in eyes (which is a little odd, you know). So go find a big sky, and find yourself under it.
score one for mary rose.
you're awesome.
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