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| - Once upon a time, a lone man walked into a saloon, through the heavy door and into the parlour. Gimme a scotch...Craggmore, 12 years old, he says to the bartender. Make that two, he says as he notices his compadre walk in. His eyes grazed the ol' haunt he'd been too on one too many occasions. Its wooden interior and dim lighting always reminded him that warmth was never far away.
After a lingering duo of dames decided to exit , their seats were promptly snatched up. The man was impressed at how friendly the bar mistress was, he'd been to bars from kentucky to kalamazoo and the service had never been better.
His weary eyes glanced to a sign noting the $7 appetizers on Tuesday's. Although not hungry he felt compelled to get a bowl of mussels for he and his pal to share. When it arrived he'd gotten more than he bargained for, about a pound and a half of steamin mussels, dripping with the curried mayo of a land far away.
It was the best of times , it was the worst of times. Best because he knew, deep in his heart that if there were one place in the west, that he could always quench his thirst and put cheap food in his belly, a place where the people were warm and friendly, Local 510 twas it.
The worst of times simply because, it was winter, in Calgary and he wished that damn patio were open and the sun was blazing once again.
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