Posted by: endithinks | July 30, 2010

Unedited writing 7/30/2010

It wasn’t as if Becka hadn’t heard them all before.  She could probably repeat every pick up line since 1984 with a little practice, but it was something about the way this guy said a classic that actually got her attention.  It was probably the fact that the man in question was shorter than her, bald, and possesed with a pair of glasses so thick they looked like someone had sliced the bottom off of coke bottles and stuck two sticks to the sides of them.

He was wearing a green jacket, blue jeans and a necklace that was some sort of foreign car logo.  Maybe it was an older version of the Mercedes Benz emblem or maybe he had made it himself in metal class.  He was sniffing at a bottle of beer and holding it between his fingers as if it was toxic and he screwed up his nose took a deep breath and took a large pull from the bottle.

“Aye, I cannae believe dis be five dollars lass.  It cannot be five, you must have meant fifty cents.”  He said dropping the bottle back on the bar and clearing his throat.  “You need to suggest a chase ah with dat one love.”

The bartender grabbed the bottle and chugged it and threw it over her head into the recycle trash can that was full of sharpened broken glass.  That was when Becka noticed that everyone threw their bottles back behind the bar when they were finished.  The bartenders were wearing thick clothes that protected them from the shards that escaped and flew with high speed and the patrons all had their backs to the bar sitting and looking out at the rest of the establishment.

“So are ya gunna ansa da question?”  the man said picking at something between his teeth.

Becka pretended not to hear him which didn’t take much acting as the Guns and Roses jukebox was blasting over the PA system at rock concert levels.  The jukebox only played GNR songs or songs that GNR liked.  It was shaped like a guitar with a model of Slash holding it’s strings.  The work was amateurish at best and the portrayal of Slash was not only completely innaccurate, but nearly grotesque.

“I be coming to dis here pub for quite some time naw.  I can tell dat ye are not too fameelee are with this the ‘great wolf pub on brewster street.’

Becka took a sip of her martini and started tapping her hands to the music.  She flinched as some glass crashed behind her as a patron threw an empty from a few feet away.

“Muhahaha.  Ya cannae be jumpin every time dat happens love.  Ya be an old spinsta by time the band starts playin.”   He said grabbing a few nuts from the bowl and shoving them into his mouth.  “Tonight gonna be extra special.  My boys be playin tonigh and day been practicin extra hard.  Day a regula right band nah.”  he said pointing to the stage.

Becka turned to the stage and saw a drumset set up that had two base drums in the kit.  She noticed that the bands name was burned on the front of the drumset, “Lads of Laps.”  The two microphones that were set up were covered in cloth and the lights were already focusing all the attention on the lead singer’s place.  She took another sip and moved the toothpick with the olive to the side with her tongue.

The man had turned around and was chatting up with the bartender again when the music from the jukebox had quieted.  The man hopped off his stool and winked at Becka as he sauntered up to the stage.  He jumped on stage and tapped the microphone with a thick finger.

“How da hell are ya tonigh?!”  He said into the microphone.  The crowd appropriately responded with a few bottle thrown near his general position.  He sidestepped them or bashed them to the side all the while cursing at their behavior but still laughing all the same.  “Okay enough of dis foreplay.  I give ye dee Lads and Laps!”

The crowd surged forward as the band stepped from behind the curtain onto the small raised stage.  The drummer was a squat man with a large beard sticking out in numerous directions.  He had on a pair of pants.  The guitarist was lean and lanky and had on a pair of overalls and a t-shirt with a naked woman on it.  He started tuning his guitar with his back to the crowd, but everyone stopped breathing when the lead singer opened the curtain.

He was something out of novel or a classic film.  He looked fake, not a real person at all.  He was too handsome, too stunning, too perfect.  He had the kind of look that made people no matter orientation or leaning stop and look.  His eyes were covered by shades and his hair was closely cropped.  He was clean shaven with some stubble starting to form, but it was something unseen that made the hair on the back of Becka’s neck stand up.   She downed the martini and leaned forward trying to see through the crowd that had somehow grown taller since the band got on stage.

The man who had been hitting on her came back and flopped down on the stool next to her.

“Ah I knew you’d like him.”   He said crunching on a few nuts.  “Wanna know is name?”

Becka nodded without turning to face the man.

“Garret.”

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