Crap Bar

Reads: 105  | Likes: 0  | Shelves: 0  | Comments: 0

More Details
Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic
I dunno what the hell this is, I just wanted to write.

Submitted: October 14, 2016

A A A | A A A

Submitted: October 14, 2016



It was cold outside. 
Depending on who you'd ask, it was either cold as heck, or cold as hell. 
Cold as hell never really made any sense. Hell is fire and brimstone, what poetic-type decided it was cold? Fuck that guy. 
(What the hell is a heck anyway?)
There was this guy, in a bar, out of his goddamn mind, like Jack Nicholson in the Shining, named Jack. He kinda looked like Jack Nicholson too, even drank the same drink every night as Jack Nicholson in the Shining, bourbon. 
This guy, Jack, was sitting by his lonesome as he did every night, near the counter. (The bar was a shit-stain, I forgot to mention. Kinda looked like a shit stain from outer space, well, supposedly. That's what Jack said, anyway.) 
So anyway, Jack was sitting near the counter of the shit stain bar, and the bartender is accompanied by a young apprentice. (Apprenticeships for bar-tending is totally a thing now) and lets him take over for a bit. 
Jack, being Jack, was out of his drunken mind, and just sat there like a shit-stain, in the shit-stain bar, with his arms spread across the counter, in a kinda divine way (you had to be there to understand) and the kid comes up to him and asks:
"What can I get cha"
Jack slowly lifts his head from the counter, phlegm oozing out the mouth, and slurs :
"Usual!" and thumps his head back on the counter. 
The kid pours the drink and taps it on the decayed wood by Jack's nestled head. 
Jack then cocks up and takes a sip. 
Now for some reason, Jack tastes a phantom ice-cube within the bourbon. The thing is, there never was an ice-cube, but Jack being Jack, calls out on it.
"What the hell is this shit" is slowly uttered with deadly eye contact to the poor kid. 
"If I wanted my drink on the rocks, I would of fucking said so, wouldn't of I?" 
The kid is frozen with fear.
"You fucked up, kid. You done fucked up now, didn't ya"
Jack grabs the invisible ice cube and throws it out of the glass.
"You gone fucked up!"
Jack is now waving around, spazzing like a grade-A nutcase, in a shit-stain of a bar. There's a kid who's reacting to the usual Jack behaviour like a Lovecraft hero who's just witnessed the impossible, and the senior bartender is snorting coke in the bathroom. 
"I've fucking had it with this place. I'll find another bar and party there like it's nineteen-fucking-eighty-nine"
Jack walked out, the kid pissed his pants and the world carried on. 

© Copyright 2018 Chris Marshall. All rights reserved.

Add Your Comments:

Booksie 2018 Poetry Contest

Booksie Popular Content

Other Content by Chris Marshall

In Lust

Book / Other

A Lost Exhibition

Short Story / Science Fiction

The Flawed God

Short Story / Science Fiction

Popular Tags