The old man walks in and looks at the many weeks' worth of dust on the formerly sparklingly polished bar, and almost weeps...

"Beertender, where in the heck are you? Why aren't you here, emceeing a TGIF party?"

His wan cry echoes without answer throughout the empty room.

Quietly, a neighborhood foot patrol policeman steps through the swinging door... but the door squeaks from inactivity, causing the old man to do a startled about-face; suddenly, the old man and the constable are nose to nose shocked speechless at the sight of each other.

The stunned old man was first to break the uneasy silence... "Where the heck is the Beertender?" he barked... "This place looks like it's been vacant for weeks!"

The policeman replied nasally: "I guess all the old regular customers quit dropping by, and the poor Beertender just gave up trying... someone said he just kinda faded away like the morning fog... "

The old man sharply replied: "Does anyone know where he is, or just how to get ahold of him? This place is the epitome of melancholic quietude."

"John Law" responded with a questioning look and his whiney voice: "Huh? What did you say?"

The old man was clearly becoming somewhat riled at the ineptitude of the nerdy policeman... "We need some flowing suds, salty snacks, a few hot chicks and some noisy music! The weekend is here... Fall classes begin Monday morning, and some of us around here need to get back into the swing of things!"

No sooner had the old man finished his spleen-splitting salvo, than the Beertender came sauntering in from the back door...

"I thought I heard that raspy voice" the Beertender complained... "So where in the heck have you been hiding? Without your paycheck crossing my bar, I couldn't even pay the electric bill, much less keep the place open! So get your lazy butt up on your stool, and I'll pour you a tall Diet Coke; I still have a bagga pretzels with your name on it."

The policeman was totally ignored by both the Beertender and the querulous old man. As soon as he could squeeze a word in edgewise, he whined "What about me? Can't I have a snack, too?"

The Beertender slowly sized up the policeman, eyeing him up and down. The cop's pants were clearly about an inch and a half too short, his shabby shoesoles were impregnated with detritus from the seedy sidewalks of his beat. The dorky "John Law" prominently displayed an advanced case of Dunlop's Disease. Then, the Beertender quietly said "Dunkin' Donuts is just a couple of blocks down the street... aren't they expecting you about now?"

Mr. Law took the not-so-subtle hint and oozed his way back out the swinging doors...

"Awright, you got rid of him. Now get to pouring my tall Diet Coke, and find a slice of lime for it, willya?" the old man barked. 'And get the right kind of pretzels next time. These are the brand I told you I didn't like!"

"You sure ain't changed much in these past few weeks, old man!" the Beertender said with a wry grin on his face... "So, where ya hidin' yer friends?"

"Hey! It's Five O'Clock somewhere..." came a shout from the babbling gaggle shoving their way in through the swinging front doors...

The old man tossed his answer to the wide-eyed Beertender "That answer yer question? Now refill my Diet Coke, and go easier on the ice this time."

I always love reading these kinds of posts from you!

{{{{{{{{{{{{HUGEST, HUMUNGOUS HUGZZZZZZ}}}}}}}}}}}}

Phyllis, aka, "Ponygirl"

Perfect opener..I loved this!!!
Its sooo good to be back!!!
I dont care if the sign on the door says BT2-OR- BT1..
We are all here together once again!!!!
Kell

Hey glad someone opened the bar...

Please hand me the Diet Dr. Pepper,and the plate of chicken quesadillias,and have a pleasant evening.

Anyone seen Guido??

Kristin

Hiya, Beertender...
Yeah, it's me again. Yuh squawked like a stuck hog a while back, when ya couldn't pay yer bills... then my paycheck opened your doors again... so shaddap and pour me a Diet Coke.

Okay, "Please."

So, where's the pretzel bowl?
Okay... popcorn's good too... just keep yer greasy fake butter offutt.

Yeah, another visit with the OrthoDoc this afternoon...

About every year or year-an-a-half...

Of course he did! He's a SURGEON, fer Chrissakes! He gets paid to carve his trademark in people's bodies...
Huh?
Yup, an A-P along with a few laterals... with my neck bent every which way...

Got some more Diet Coke? Lay a slice of lime in the glass this time, willya?

Thanx!

So, he peered at the pictures and probably calculated the cost of a new BMW 7-series... then told me all sortsa nasty things about what's inside my neck...

Nope, not yet...

He wants another MRI first, then he'll probably lower the boom.


I dunno, Beerkeep, I just don't...

After the last few chop-jobs, I dunno if I wanna have another one... especially on a fresh part of my body. Nature just might force my hand, though...

Maybe the ol' bod is kinda like a 100,000 mile car: too good to throw away, but not good enough to spend any money to fix. Ya just do whatcha absolutely hafta do to keep it runnin'... don't sweat how it looks, just so it starts in the mornin', and keeps goin' all day.

Yeah, I'm gettin' all philosophical now... one more Diet Coke, and I'll get outta yer hair for a while...
Ha ha ha!
Yeah! Until ya need to pay yer next electric bill!

Here's the popcorn dish... better sterilize it, 'cause I touched it...

Okay... seeya...

Yeah, I'll sure letcha know... probably stop in the night before and get thoroughly hammered.

Yeah, on Diet Coke!

Won't be too soon, though... mebbee my head'll fall off first.

Have a good'n!

Naw, keep the change...

Whyn'tcha use it to buy a can o'WD-40 to oil the hinges in this door? It sounds like Inner Sanctum...