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  • DAY I: Smokey room, dimly lit...take my Stetson off at the bar, sling my duster over a stool and nod to the other patrons. I feel a wad of greenbacks deep in my pocket but I'd be damned to expose the bundle in a place like this. Barmaid is attractive, sociable and young- I wouldn't have taken her to be a day over eighteen but what does an ol' hound-dog like me know. Her smile reminds me of Rosemary Sneed- an old time used-to-be from my happier days in Cleveland... *clock is ticking louder and louder* Ahh...I'll never forget her smile and the way the sun would shine through her dress... - DAY II: I dozed off... Same patrons, same barmaid, a new day. The wad of cash planted firmly in my pocket and still gripping a greenback as to make it stand erect in my hand- maybe I should switch seats- maybe it's because I'm only 5'7"...what does it matter. Every patron is here for a reason and why twist the arms of fate? I arrived last night with friends, or did I? My body fixed to attract the attention of the barmaid but my head craned towards the doorway leading to the dance floor- I think I hear "Moonlight & Magnolias" but it's probably just some of that *techno*... "Excuse me, sir" My head whips back to the bar- it's the fellow next to me. "May I rest my legs on this stool?" Similarly short in stature but wearing badges denoting the rank of a colonel- poor sap has lived a long, hard life and here he is waiting for the same thing the rest of us are... sweet liquid relief. I move the duster and resume vying for the attention of the tapstress. Coughing isn't alerting her of my presence and possibly repelling her. Would it be futile to attempt some long-range conversation? I begin to study her tattoos...I wonder what that Chinese character means... - DAY III: I've always been a working man... sleep for me was an occasionally alluring mistress that I preferred to withstand but when in her throes I humbly accepted and basked in the rejuvenating nourishment she bestowed. The barmaid was now stationed at the opposite end of the bar... I missed my chance. I felt a wave of embarrassment wash over me. The feeling passed and in step with my assurance that everything was happening for a reason at Ye Old Five O'Clock Lounge, I considered ordering a Black Label instead of my regular PBR.
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