Post by Chris Leon on May 17, 2011 19:48:00 GMT -5
Liquor.
The cold drink that served as an escape from their lives for these sad, sad men.
One person sitting on the furthest left an old man. His salt-and peppered hair fell over his eyes, extremely greased- he hadn't had a shower in a while, as it was clear by this and his atrocious smell. He cried, talking of his somber tales- he had recently lost his 25 year old child in a car crash, his wife divorcing him immediatley after. With the little money he had afterwards (his ex-wife practically took all of the money), he went down here, wasting his life and cash on seemingly endless beers.
Going to the person next to him, was a barely 21- hell, was he even 21?- kid, with a couple of friends, trying to shove some Jacky D. into his face. The kid kept refusing, but he was prone to giving in sometime or another. His friends were already shitfaced, their speech impedimented into a slur. They waved their already empty glass cups, signifying that they wanted more, as they pushed and shoved their friend playfully, pressuring him to take the drink.
And if you looked far back, into one of the darker corners of the bar, you could see the drunk owner of the bar, Vinnie. He was a huge asshole- he thought he was the most suave guy anywhere, and hired loads of prostitutes. These paid whores were Vinnie's only action, because, with real women, he was the polar opposite of a chick magnet. He was one of those faggots who wore a Hawaian T-shirt and khaki's every day, even though it was the middle of the winter in Japan, and wore sunglasses at night. Vinnie might have had some abs, but even this with his slick backed, dyded-black hair still kept him ugly. He had about 5 women around him, oohing and aahing at his totally bullshitted stories about how he had been on adventures and made a fortune off this bar.
"Hey, buddy!", Vinnie called out to me, "Why don't you come here and get me and the ladies some Bailey's here?" Chris sighed, bringing him two bottles of the smooth liquor he requested, dropping them on his lap, and immediatley heading back to counter. Chris then sighed, looking around, reflecting on this shitty hole in the wall. But hey, the pay was alright, and it gave him a bit of spending money as well.
"Still, though," Chris thought, "Someone who wasn't totally drunk out of their mind yet and not a total douchebag would be nice to talk to." But, this wish had never been granted in the 6 months he had been working there. So, Chris sat on a stool and relaxed for a while, his eyes clenching in anger when one of the drunks asked for more Jack Daniels.
The cold drink that served as an escape from their lives for these sad, sad men.
One person sitting on the furthest left an old man. His salt-and peppered hair fell over his eyes, extremely greased- he hadn't had a shower in a while, as it was clear by this and his atrocious smell. He cried, talking of his somber tales- he had recently lost his 25 year old child in a car crash, his wife divorcing him immediatley after. With the little money he had afterwards (his ex-wife practically took all of the money), he went down here, wasting his life and cash on seemingly endless beers.
Going to the person next to him, was a barely 21- hell, was he even 21?- kid, with a couple of friends, trying to shove some Jacky D. into his face. The kid kept refusing, but he was prone to giving in sometime or another. His friends were already shitfaced, their speech impedimented into a slur. They waved their already empty glass cups, signifying that they wanted more, as they pushed and shoved their friend playfully, pressuring him to take the drink.
And if you looked far back, into one of the darker corners of the bar, you could see the drunk owner of the bar, Vinnie. He was a huge asshole- he thought he was the most suave guy anywhere, and hired loads of prostitutes. These paid whores were Vinnie's only action, because, with real women, he was the polar opposite of a chick magnet. He was one of those faggots who wore a Hawaian T-shirt and khaki's every day, even though it was the middle of the winter in Japan, and wore sunglasses at night. Vinnie might have had some abs, but even this with his slick backed, dyded-black hair still kept him ugly. He had about 5 women around him, oohing and aahing at his totally bullshitted stories about how he had been on adventures and made a fortune off this bar.
"Hey, buddy!", Vinnie called out to me, "Why don't you come here and get me and the ladies some Bailey's here?" Chris sighed, bringing him two bottles of the smooth liquor he requested, dropping them on his lap, and immediatley heading back to counter. Chris then sighed, looking around, reflecting on this shitty hole in the wall. But hey, the pay was alright, and it gave him a bit of spending money as well.
"Still, though," Chris thought, "Someone who wasn't totally drunk out of their mind yet and not a total douchebag would be nice to talk to." But, this wish had never been granted in the 6 months he had been working there. So, Chris sat on a stool and relaxed for a while, his eyes clenching in anger when one of the drunks asked for more Jack Daniels.