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Elvis Is In The Building!

| 0 Comments | 1280 Views | Back to top | Posted on 09/13/2013 at 04:24 AM

I have never understood some peoples fascination with Elvis.  Today I saw a guy that was clearly trying to pull off an Elvis.  He held the door for me when I walked into my building.  I said thank you and he replied with a grunt.  Not very Elvis like I thought.

Maybe I am wrong though.  Maybe Elvis was a huge prick and maybe this guy is the only true Elvis impersonator.  Right down to the shitty attitude.  All those tight jumps suits would rub any man the wrong way after a while.  Probably not, but  a guy can dream can’t he.


Female Of The Species – By Shannon Thompson

| 0 Comments | 1609 Views | Back to top | Posted on 03/18/2013 at 02:55 AM

Female Of The Species

by Shannon Thompson


You whine at me and I have no reason why.

I can’t please you, even though I do everything that is expected of me.

Yet you still look at me with those eyes.

Never really saying what it is you want from me.

Just say something.

 Anything to make me understand.


Just more staring.

More whining.

And occasionally, you lick your snatch.

My Place In Life – By Shannon Thompson

| 0 Comments | 1653 Views | Back to top | Posted on 03/18/2013 at 02:55 AM

My Place In Life

by Shannon Thompson


A sliver of real estate for my smelly ass.

A third of a cushion all for me..

Hogged by the horizontal.

Stinginess and fur.

No place for you!

Put your ass on the floor.

Your space is my space and my space is my space.

You’re just a visitor.

Close the blinds.

Fun Comes To Die – by Shannon Thompson

| 0 Comments | 1628 Views | Back to top | Posted on 03/04/2013 at 02:55 AM

This girl was out of place.  She wasn’t a virgin, but she also wasn’t to the stage of most of the other female patrons.  She seemed like she was looking for something or someone.

“Can I help you?” I asked.
“Can I have a Bud draft please?” She replied.  She isn’t from around here, nobody orders a draft in this place.
“Yeah, I am gonna need to see some ID.”

She handed me a Minnesota drivers license.  She was twenty-four, I had guessed twenty-nine.  That is a little game I like to play on slower nights to pass the time.  When it’s busy I barely look at it, let alone guess.  Tonight was slow.  Which made her appearance here even more bizarre.

Sometimes, when it’s busy the occasional young person or people will wander in.  They hear the jukebox and laughter and mistake it for fun.  This isn’t about fun for most of these people.  It’s about trying to recapture fun.  Some where, for most of these people, fun fled their lives.  It ran away with time, age and money.  Now they spend every day using their fives and tens as bait for fun.  Trying to lure him in.  He peeks his head in sometimes to make  sure no one really wants him there, and then he is gone.

Maybe that is what she is doing here.  Waiting for fun to show up.  I don’t have the heart to tell her he isn’t welcome here anymore.

The Hammer – A Short Story

| 0 Comments | 1632 Views | Back to top | Posted on 12/29/2012 at 02:55 AM

“He’s got a hammer!”  Jamey yelled.
Which to me seemed like an unnecessary statement, but people say stupid shit all the time under stress.
“Yeah.” Was all I could muster up.

The asshole wielding the hammer is a regular.  He is in here six days a week and rests on Sunday.  Which is fitting, because his drinking binges are biblical.  Tonight is the first time the hammer has come out.  His usual weapon of choice is a pool cue, which means he must have worked today.  Double Bourbon is a construction worker.  That is what we call him.  Bartenders tend to forget names, but rarely do they forget someones drink of choice.  This asshole with the hammer is Double Bourbon.

Double Bourbon liked to drink with Old Fashioned.  Even though they don’t really get along, they considered themselves good friends.  Old Fashioned was a drunk of thirty years or more.  He was educated and in his late fifties. Thin and frail, from a life time of booze.  Physically he was no match for Double Bourbon who was in his late forties but still in relatively good shape from his part-time construction worker occupation.  Their usual arguments were over politics or sports.  This time though, they were arguing about martial arts, or in particular martial artists.  Double Bourbon was a Chuck Norris guy, which seems like something that should go unsaid.  Even if you had never met him you could walk up and say “I bet you’re a big Chuck Norris guy?”  Old Fashioned, well he was more of a “Jean Claude Van Dame fellow”.  This combined with the fact that he drank old fashions was enough to convince Double Bourbon he was queer.

“Come here faggot!” Taunted Double Bourbon.  Swinging his hammer like a drunken carpenter.
“Go and diddle yourself you homophobe.”  Replied Old Fashion.  Only expert bar tending knowledge would diffuse this situation.

“Look, either put the hammer away or never drink here again.” Jamey said.  That should do it I thought.  Simple and right to the point.  Weirdly enough, it worked.  Had Double Bourbon had a moment unclouded with drunken rage?  Probably not.  He just realized the repercussions of his actions were too severe.  Because to a drunk all you have is your watering hole.  If you fuck up in the place where everyone tolerates you for being less than human then you really have nowhere else to go.  Those other drunks are your fucked up family and without family you are alone.  And lonely drunks don’t live long.

The sad reality is they all fuck it up sooner or later.  They just find a new watering hole and a new fucked up family to argue with.  Until there are no more watering holes to be eighty-sixed from.

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