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| - Excerpt from Mount Royal, There's Nothing Harder Than Love by Basil Papademos
www.smashwords.com/extreader/read/245899
"A year ago the Bifteck was a tomb. The numbskull Porkchop owner had his d*ck in his hand and couldn't figure out how to draw flies. He'd redone the dive with curly, wrought-iron arches, exposed wood beams, beige stucco and framed bullfighting posters. He tried flamenco dancers and they immediately flatlined. Then Gypsy fiddlers--pfft. That was followed by some lowlife in a matador suit who sang Barry Manilow schmaltz while tickling a Farfisa organ. All that and fine dining.
Despite his considerable efforts, the Porkchop was thwarted. He'd fret, pace around and his testicles would constrict as he watched the Balmoral across the street get mobbed day and night. He couldn't figure it out. That place was a filthy hole while his establishment was classy.
Looking to replace a barmaid, the Porkchop hired a hip young babe called Marie, without giving it much thought beyond some far-fetched fantasy she'd find him beguiling. Marie advised the Porkchop to uncover the pool tables fossilizing in the back. He was reluctant, worried about the Bifteck losing its luxe appeal, but eventually agreed to try it her way--for a little while. Marie played some of her mix tapes and a few friends dropped by. College kids began to show up and shoot eightball, drink lots of cheap draft. It wasn't long before The Mirror officially sanctioned the Bifteck's kitschy cool. Within a couple of months the place got fairly trashed, which only added to the image and nowadays there's a lineup down the block after midnight."
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