Went to a bar yesterday. Decided, fuck it, gotta meet someone new sometime, right? Sat and ordered whiskey on the rocks making no eye contact 'cause I have introvert on autopilot. Notice my reflection in a mirror behind the bar. Grey shadows lurk under my eyes. The bar is(more) empty, my thoughts are louder than the shitty country music playing on the jukebox. I down my drink. Start making more eye contact with my reflection. Realize a smile wants to emerge from my frown. I order another drink and flirt even more with this confusion. Why am do I feel like smiling when I usually just feel like shit. Haha it is kind of funny, though, how stupid melancholy people act. Cheer the fuck up or do something about it, right? Fag. Order more whiskey, smiling at the bartender this time. I suddenly seem taller in the mirror, feel like taking my confusion out for a candlelight dinner. The bar is still empty. Country music doesn't sounds all that bad anymore, I really hope Jolene doesn't take that that woman's man. Down my drink again, try not to make a sour face, then order another. Wonder what my grandma's doing at the moment. Feel like going home. Where is home? Fuck, Jolene, find your own man! Down my drink, it went down like water after exercising. Think about Hemingway. He survived two plane crashes and still had a final dance with suicide. Order another drink, cheers Ernest. Realize I'm tapping my hands to the beat of country music now. Down my drink. Feel like alcohol should be a religion. Pay my tab and head home. Wake up in front my laptop. There's porn on the screen. Cuddle with my suicidal thoughts 'till late afternoon.
Her words have weight
Like they could anchor a ship.
How many drinks does it take
To turn memories to ash?
Now, that's some modern day alchemy for ya.
(more) Thin blue puffs of smoke
Dance around the light fixtures.
The haze hangs for a moment
Before tapering off into nothingness.
The night sings like a lullaby.
You can hear the croon
Through taillight eyes
In the darkened barroom.
Her calls like nightingales;
Flying, screeching around my head.
I wonder will they once again
Find perch in my heart?
it wasn't anything special, just a single slab of hardwood shined up with varnish and beer stains. even so, it drew a crowd--after work, before work, instead of work.
"What can I get ya darling?" Rhonda called out from behind the bar, and before they could answer, sh(more)e would make a suggestion based on their outfit, disposition, or past history.
"You look like you could use a whiskey."
"Yeah? I'm more of a beer drinker, but you may be on to something. Today is a whiskey drinking kind of day. I'll have one on the rocks."
"That's what I thought."
She moved swiftly, but made each customer feel as though their drinks, their stories were for her ears only. She did this by leaning her elbows onto the bar and looking directly at them. eye contact or no eye contact, she needed them to know that she was paying attention.
One night, she came on just in time for shift and no one was there. The bar was filthy, hadn't been cleaned last night.
"Hey, anyone here?" She could usually hear Johnny in the back, hacking mucus into the trash. Tonight, though, she heard nothing, no one.
She considered leaving; if Johnny wasn't here, she shouldn't be here either. Johnny ran the books and had keys to all of the doors. She wouldn't have been able to get in if Johnny hadn't been here.
She walked to the back and saw the shadow of a singular lamp.
The door was open. His keys were on the desk. More than a dozen keys held together by the thread of a key chain.
She looked behind her. Nothing, no one.
If anyone found out that she took the keys...
No one would find out, though. She knew that much. (less)
That was me, waiting for you in the empty bar. With my usual candy jar and my chocolate bar. Until one day I realised that doing such won't get me far. So I stood up and get to my car. Sitting there won't get me far. Not even with(more) my chocolate bar and candy jar. The only thing I have to do to be far, is to leave the empty bar.(less)
in the empty bar i stare
at the two of us so fair
my eyes are yours
and your face is mine
it looks like a mirror
only its much clearer
(more) falling into silence with myself
as you do the same to yourself
looking around to see if im alone
not knowing if im a clone(less)
Kenshin stood in front of the refrigerator in the basement and sighed. It was an older model, the one that once stood in the kitchen until Edward accidentally lit the ice maker on fire. (There had never been a satisfactory explanation as to why the ice maker had been(more) lit on fire, or how, for that matter - but one thing Kenshin had learned was that when he heard Edward go "oops, oops, oh SHIT" he simply Did Not Want To Know.) The freezer portion may have been out of commission, but the actual fridge portion still worked, and they used that to store the booze.
Most of the time.
Right now, most of the long-neck bottles were gone, there was a mysterious, wrapped object nestled in the middle of the shelf and the remaining bottles of beer were crowded around it. The hard liquor in the door was untouched.
So now, the question remained - did Kenshin really want to know what that wrapped bundle was, and whose fault was it?
The majority of the residents didn't drink much - the werewolf Ed, the angel Roy, and Rian's Edward were the ones who often made the biggest dent in the reserves. The hunters, thankfully, kept to their own stash; the lot of them were functioning alcoholics and generally bad influences. Kenshin reasoned that they spent most of their grocery budget on beer, judging only by the recycling bin in the garage.
He sighed, and leaned his arm on the open door. He didn't want to touch the bundle, but his curiosity was getting the better of him. It was the wrong size and shape to be a human head - he hadn't forgiven Kennichi for that prank yet, either - but there was no telling WHAT it could be.(less)