From: Blunderov (squooker@mweb.co.za)
Date: Sun Sep 08 2002 - 14:45:57 MDT
Nihilon Bar and Grill.
[Saturday Night]
The Nihilon Bar and Grill is owned by Shorty, but instead of having, as
you might suspect from the name, no rules at all, it is in fact strictly
regulated by the mayor of Nihilon. It is Shorty's misfortune that the
mayor is as capricious as the aged neon sign that hangs outside his bar,
and no less capable of high-voltage tantrum.
One law that never changes in Nihilon is that anyone who goes into a bar
has to hand over his car-keys to the publican. Depending on the quantity
of alcohol permitted by the "Rule of the Day" communique, (actually a
phone call from the mayor's office) the patron may or may not have his
car-keys returned to him. Furthermore, in the event of the publican
deciding that the "Rule of the Day" compels him to retain the patron's
keys, he is also obliged to call a taxi for the patron at his, the
publican's, own expense.
The previous night the limit had been set at two drinks which guaranteed
a slow night. It could be said with some justice that every night down
at the Nihilon Bar and Grill is a slow night. The bar itself is not
without a gin-soaked charm and above his lair at the till is
confirmation of Shorty's deeper side in the form of a large blackboard
chalked with the message "Don't you know there ain't no devil, there's
just God when he's drunk? (Tom Waits) God is dead! (Nietzsche) God is
dead drunk! (Shorty).
The "Rule of the day" for this Saturday night is an awkward one; "If, in
the publican's opinion, the client is incapable of driving safely then
his keys shall be retained. If the publican returns the keys and the
client subsequently crashes, then the client shall be deemed to have
been incapable, and the publican's license shall be forfeit."
Trouble arrived in the form of Romeo, who slid into a chair at the bar
with the intent air of a very thirsty sailor on shore leave. "Why,"
wondered Shorty, "did the mayor have to make things so complicated on
the busiest night of the week?" A simple number was so much easier to
enforce. Now he would have to watch Romeo like a hawk to make sure he
did not get too pissed to drive home, and Romeo always drank as much as
he could.
"Set me up with three Tequilas, and keep the lemon and salt in the
kitchen with the cheap stuff."
"OK," said Shorty," you know the rule for tonight, but hey, Romeo...
take it easy won't you? My license is on the line here."
"No problem, Shorty. Just keep 'em coming until you think I'm almost
dangerous!"
Four beers with Tequila chasers later Shorty decided that the time had
come to pull the plug on Romeo.
"Hey Romeo. One more and that's it OK?
"Well, OK. You're the boss, but I still think I'm fine."
"But you would think that wouldn't you? You've been drinking steadily
for an hour. And it's me who has to use my judgment not you, right?"
"Well OK. I hate that damn taxi driver anyway. He never stops talking
about the bullet he took in 'Nam..."
The 'phone rang like a trash-can rolling off a tin roof. It was the
mayor.
"Shorty, that you?"
"Yep, mayor. That's me. I'm him."
"Thought I better let you know. The Amazing Blondel's Traveling Circus
and Freak show just hit town and the roads are pretty busy. Make sure
none of your barflies get out of hand. We don't want any unpleasantness.
I still have nightmares about the time the bearded lady came into my
office to complain about that incident in the alleyway next to the YMCA"
Click
This was a problem, Shorty reflected. Romeo was probably OK to get home
on a normal night, but the roads were now apparently cluttered with
side-show freaks and their camp followers, including rusty cages stuffed
with dangerous animals.
"This is not good" mused Shorty.
"Hey Romeo?"
"Yeah"
"Sorry bud, got to call you a taxi. The roads are crammed with dangerous
freaks and wild animals. We can't take the risk of liberating mangy,
underfed tigers into the neighborhood. It's more than my license is
worth."
"Shit Shorty. Do you really have to? I hate that taxi driver. C'mon I'm
good to drive!"
"Sorry Bubba. It's too dangerous. If you crash the consequences could be
terrible. Can't risk it."
[Sunday morning]
"Morning Shorty"
"Hey Romeo."
"Listen Shorty. I won't be coming to drink in your bar no more. I can't
drink in a place that has a weird barkeep who can't think straight. And
that goddamn taxi driver wanted to show me his scar again."
"What do you mean, 'can't think straight'?"
"Well, basically you said I was OK, but then you changed your mind
because of the Freak Show."
"Yeah, so?"
"Well, when it comes down to it, what you were saying was that the worse
something might be, the more likely it is to happen! 'Cmon! I thought
you were my friend, man."
"Well Romeo, there are two reasons why it doesn't matter what you think
or say."
"Oh yeah. What?"
Shorty points to the neon sign outside.
"You see it's the NIHILON Bar and Grill. It doesn't matter what you
think in Nihilon."
"OK, but what's the other reason?"
"Romeo, you forgot. I still got your car-keys."
By Blunderov (Who acknowledges his debt to both Alan Sillitoe and Tom
Waits)
Editor-in-Chief; Letheomaniac.
Warm regards.
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