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Sonictitan
Dust
- Joined
- Dec 29, 2016
"You look confused."
Coming from outside, the bar's dusky light makes it difficult to tell who is talking to you. But as your eyes acclimatize to the low light, the owner of the male voice becomes apparent.
Stood behind the rather stylish bar is the bartender, polishing a glass idly with a hand towel. "You look like maybe you've stumbled across a place you didn't expect. Or maybe . . ."
"Or maybe she's looking for someone," the woman sitting down the bar interjects. She toys with the rim of her wine glass. "Or he, hard to tell with how rediculously low you keep the lights." She rolls here eyes dramatically at the Bartender.
keeping his eyes on you, the Bartender smiles. "We keep them low for her. She's what you call darkly beautiful: when it's dark . . ."
Raising his voice over the inevitable "fuck you" from the woman, the Bartender continues the tour. "Over there are the boys."
Towards the back of the there are three men sitting around a booth: each slightly older than the last. Raucous laughter tumbles from their table as they share stories over a pitcher of beer. "They're not a bad lot," explains the Bartender, "if a bit loud."
"And over there is the Jukebox. He's, well, a particular sort of fellow. Better to avoid him entirely if you want my opinion. He's a fixture, though, what can you do?"
The Bartender pauses his tour and his glass drying, "you've met the lush down the way." He smiles mischievously, "she's not so bad either, but there was a time." Even in the low light you can see the woman glowering at the Bartender.
"The bar is fully stocked, feel free to order anything you'd like. We have a menu too, but that thing is incomprehensible." The Bartender motions towards a leather-bound folder with "Selur eht era Selur" embossed across the front.
"And no mention of those insufferable movie posters?" The Woman chimes in. The bartender looks visibly hurt.
Leaning in, the Woman speaks to you. "He keeps a collection of exploitation film posters on the back wall. Movies nobody's ever heard of. Or ever seen probably." She takes a sip of wine while the Bartender mutters something about "future cult classics."
"I mean look at them." She waves her wineglass towards the posters on the back wall, nearly spilling red wine on herself and the floor. "Sex is nostalgia for sex? Halley's Outriders? Lady Starblood? It's like a 13 year old boy's closet of shame."
"And now that everybody knows you have no taste in cult cinema AND you're a mean drunk." The Bartender shakes his head at the woman, then turns his attention back to you, ready to answer any further questions or fill reasonable requests.
Coming from outside, the bar's dusky light makes it difficult to tell who is talking to you. But as your eyes acclimatize to the low light, the owner of the male voice becomes apparent.
Stood behind the rather stylish bar is the bartender, polishing a glass idly with a hand towel. "You look like maybe you've stumbled across a place you didn't expect. Or maybe . . ."
"Or maybe she's looking for someone," the woman sitting down the bar interjects. She toys with the rim of her wine glass. "Or he, hard to tell with how rediculously low you keep the lights." She rolls here eyes dramatically at the Bartender.
keeping his eyes on you, the Bartender smiles. "We keep them low for her. She's what you call darkly beautiful: when it's dark . . ."
Raising his voice over the inevitable "fuck you" from the woman, the Bartender continues the tour. "Over there are the boys."
Towards the back of the there are three men sitting around a booth: each slightly older than the last. Raucous laughter tumbles from their table as they share stories over a pitcher of beer. "They're not a bad lot," explains the Bartender, "if a bit loud."
"And over there is the Jukebox. He's, well, a particular sort of fellow. Better to avoid him entirely if you want my opinion. He's a fixture, though, what can you do?"
The Bartender pauses his tour and his glass drying, "you've met the lush down the way." He smiles mischievously, "she's not so bad either, but there was a time." Even in the low light you can see the woman glowering at the Bartender.
"The bar is fully stocked, feel free to order anything you'd like. We have a menu too, but that thing is incomprehensible." The Bartender motions towards a leather-bound folder with "Selur eht era Selur" embossed across the front.
"And no mention of those insufferable movie posters?" The Woman chimes in. The bartender looks visibly hurt.
Leaning in, the Woman speaks to you. "He keeps a collection of exploitation film posters on the back wall. Movies nobody's ever heard of. Or ever seen probably." She takes a sip of wine while the Bartender mutters something about "future cult classics."
"I mean look at them." She waves her wineglass towards the posters on the back wall, nearly spilling red wine on herself and the floor. "Sex is nostalgia for sex? Halley's Outriders? Lady Starblood? It's like a 13 year old boy's closet of shame."
"And now that everybody knows you have no taste in cult cinema AND you're a mean drunk." The Bartender shakes his head at the woman, then turns his attention back to you, ready to answer any further questions or fill reasonable requests.