Apparition

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Humor  |  House: Booksie Classic
A beautiful lady walks into a bar. The patrons are bewitched and the barman nearly has a heart attack.

Submitted: March 14, 2014

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Submitted: March 14, 2014

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 Apparition

 

I was working behind the bar, drying glasses and chatting to old Mrs. Simpson (her name’s not Marge, I asked her). Business was slack at ten in the morning. There were three other patrons scattered in the room, nursing their own drinks and watching a game on telly. As I was laughing at a joke Mrs. Simpson had just told me, the door was pushed open and in came an angel. I kid you not, the pub seemed to light up. She had the bluest eyes I’d ever seen; her golden hair was flowing behind her and seemed to hang in the air. Incredibly, she seemed to be walking in slow motion like they do it in some movies. You’re probably familiar with that trick. She was wearing a flowery frock that left nothing to the imagination. Time stopped. Even the TV went mute. All five mouths in the pub were agape. Finally she reached the counter and blinded me with her smile. I had to shield my eyes. “Can I use the Ladies’, please? She asked in a mellifluous voice”. My mind went blank. Was she asking me to use the Ladies’? Hell! She could use the Gents’ as well, if she wished. I managed to nod dumbly and point her towards the loo. She walked away and all eyes, including Mrs. Simpson’s, were glued to her back. As the door swang shut behind her, the room darkened noticeably, the TV resumed its blaring and a collective sigh was finally released. Five minutes later, the apparition materialized again. She leaned on the counter revealing a cleavage that made my heart pound achingly. She put her hand to my beard and cooed: “Are you the boss, darling?” I shook my head. I couldn’t trust myself to talk. My mouth was dry and I felt hot. My eyes threatened to pop out of their sockets. She kept twirling her fingers through my beard, a smile playing on her full lips. “Could you be so sweet as to take a message, honey? She asked, all the time playing with my beard, left side, right side, under the chin. “Yes, I managed to croak.” Her smile broadened and she said: “Please tell him there’s no toilet paper in the ladies’.”


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