Hitting The Space Bar

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Science Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
Peter stops for a pint in a new bar in town. The place is out of this world. The sights and sounds are like nothing else on Earth.

Submitted: October 17, 2016

A A A | A A A

Submitted: October 17, 2016



Peter Stewart headed across Manchester city centre. He’d watched the United game in a pub with a few of his mates. When the match finished he’d decided to head off early. No doubt the lads would be out till gone three AM and be fit for nothing the next day. He had decided to leave before things got messy.

If the trams were running okay he would be home in an hour. He turned the corner. The tram stop was up ahead. He noticed a new establishment across the road. It looked interesting. The metal doors were open. Peter crossed the road to check it out. The stairs down were lit with bright lights that changed colour every few seconds. Purple. Green. Orange. Red. This place had to be new. He would have remembered passing such a distinctive building. It was no surprise that a new bar had opened. New pubs, bars and restaurants were popping up everywhere these days. The pink neon sign above the door seemed to be written in some weird lettering he could not understand. He stared for a moment. You couldn’t actually tell what the place was. It could have been an exotic restaurant, a casino, a lap dancing club. Whatever it was, he was intrigued. He had to find out what was down those steps. The thought of a pint in a new bar was too tempting to resist. It did not matter exactly what kind of establishment it was, they would serve beer. He headed down the flight of stairs and through the double doors.

He stood and stared. The room was like something from a science fiction film. The room was dimly lit with pink and yellow swirling lights. Electro pop music pulsed and throbbed from the speakers. Peter was reminded of footage he’d seen of late Sixties Pink Floyd concerts.

The clientele were dressed as though they were attending a Star Trek convention. A lot of those gathered appeared to be visitors from another planet. Their outfits really were amazing. They had clearly put in a lot of time, effort and money. The elaborate, intricate costumes almost had him believing that they were actually extra terrestrial beings. He was surrounded by all kinds of bizarre looking people. Some resembled lizards and wore military style uniform. Others had thick dark fur covering their flesh. Some were almost indescribable with their glowing skin colour and elongated limbs. A person stepped in front of him. She pressed a soft hand into his and fixed him with luminous green eyes. She introduced herself as the ‘triple breasted whore of Eroticon VI’. Her lilac skin shone.

‘I’m here on business.’ She informed him.

‘Of course you are.’

He spotted one person in a gleaming white space suit. Peter couldn’t see the astronaut’s face through the helmet’s mirrored visor.

Peter grinned as he looked around. It always fascinated him that people had the guts to go out dressed like that. His most daring outfit had been a bright green Ben Sherman back in his youth. That had been different. It was back in the Nineties, practically another lifetime.

But these guys were something else. They looked like they’d just landed from planet Vulcan. Peter had to admit they looked cool in the funky bar with the rest of the freaks, geeks and weirdos, but what about when they were standing at the bus stop on the way home.

He pushed his way through to the bar. The effort these people had gone to was impressive. And the attention to detail was astonishing. As he passed it actually sounded like they were conversing in alien tongues. Had these guys really gone to the trouble of learning a made up alien language? Wasn’t there an American university that offered a course on Klingon?

People danced, swaying in time to the hypnotic electronic music. They twisted and turned waving their arms, or similar alien limbs, in the air.

The pointy eared barman pulled a long thin glass of ale. The drink frothed and looked like a glass of blue summer sky. A creature swiped his payment card and picked up the glass with its tentacle.

‘What can I get you?’ the barman asked.


‘A pint if Zaphod’s Third Arm, coming up.’

He handed Peter a glass of bright yellow liquid that shifted and glowed like a lava lamp. Peter handed over a fiver. He took a sip. His eyes bulged and his taste buds begged for no more. The sensation was astounding. Sipping the drink was like eating strawberry ice cream while falling down a lift shaft.

He shook his head. If he finished the drink he’d probably believe this lot were aliens. The throbbing music was making his head hurt. It was time to leave. He headed back towards the exit. Leaving the strange crowd to it he trudged up the stairs to the street. He reached the top step and took a deep breath. What a crazy place. A man smoked a cigarette in the doorway. Peter smiled. The guy had fish-like scales on both cheeks. Was everyone in fancy dress tonight?

‘You okay?’ the man asked.

‘Yes, thanks. Just ready for home.’ Peter replied.

‘I’m off home myself.’

‘Where’s home?’ asked Peter.

The guy pointed to the starry sky overhead.

‘Very good.’ laughed Peter.

‘Can I give you a lift?’

‘What do you drive?’

‘My spaceship is parked round the corner.’

‘I’ll get the tram. Thanks for the offer though.’

Peter crossed the road heading for the tram stop. The smoker ducked down an alleyway.

A minute later there was a whooshing roar. Peter span around. A hulking grey rocket ship darted towards the stars.

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