As I struggle with my writing, my unusual love story has taken its time. It has grown since that posted sample. To something beyond 3,000 words and the place where a critical decision must be made. I’ve struggled over the last couple of weeks with what the right outcome is and haven’t written much as a result during that time. This morning I decided on the outcome and will be righting the thrilling conclusion soon. Hopefully. In the meantime …
I went to a writing workshop this afternoon hosted by a fellow writer. Our exercise today provided me with an opportunity to tell a piece of the story from a different perspective. I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. And maybe the other version of this story will show up here soon.
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Up and down, over and over, except when the airport shuts down from midnight at 5:00. But even then there’s the one janitor – Huong it says on his shirt – who comes in like clockwork at 2:00 and pours himself a pint. The way he quietly enjoys his beer – it’s the only time I’m happy to serve. Other than that, it’s just a relentless slog of up and down all day long, broken only by the yahoos and fools who sit at the bar.
It’s happening right now. This guy sat down a while ago and ordered a pint. It’s the ones who drink at 10:00 in the morning who always seem the most alone. There’s something about those early morning fools that reeks of desperation.
And now he’s been joined by a woman. The hint of perfume gave it away.
Damn it all. I can’t see them. I got loose again and I’m facing backwards. What’s the point of having a dog with a cartoonish face and black sunglasses on a tap handle for Blind Dog Bitter if the yahoos can’t see it. Kind of ironic, I know, a blind dog can see all.
I’ve been trying to let Joe know, wiggling in his hand every time he pulls me down to fill another pint glass, but he hasn’t figured it out yet. He keeps smothering my nose with his thumb too.
Wait a sec. What was that? She just asked him to marry her? Are you fuckin’ kidding me?
Crap. I gotta see this. He’s two beers into his morning and … there’s something wrong here. I can almost smell it. Call it a dog’s intuition.
Joe?! Get over here and turn me around!!
Now they’re making jokes about Republicans. On second thought, Joe, stay away. He’s a Republican, you know, and I’ve seen what he does to people’s drinks if he thinks they’re unfriendly to his views.
Me? I’m an independent. Neither left nor right. Just up and down. But I do think the tax on beer is too high.
Is that a kiss I just hear? Oh please, this can’t be happening. So her fiancée dumped her for what was on aisle 4. Doesn’t mean you go through with it with some stranger in a bar. I don’t care if you’ve got the suite at Wrigley for the ceremony and the rabbi lined up.
Joe’s back. He’s reaching for me. I am going to wobble the hell out of this pour. Of all the mindless flirting I’ve seen, this one tops them all.
It worked. I came off and fell into the glass with a splash. Joe cursed. Rinse me off quick, Joe, I can’t hear anything with the water running over my ears. Yes, yes, dry me off. Hygiene. Hygiene. Hygiene. I hate it when I get water in my ears. Makes me want to shake my head.
And I’m back on. A little tighter, Joe. Right … there. Perfect.
Wow!! She is hot. Dude, I see what you see, the way she dips her head when she talks to you, looking up at you with her big blue eyes. I see it. But wake up. She’s playing you.
Go ahead, buy her a beer, play along, but … oh, you’re gonna hug now and make out right here in front of me. Ack!!! Get a room. Maybe I should have stayed turned backwards.
Oh please, are you fuckin’ kidding me? You fit? She says the two of you fit perfectly together and you melted? Double Ack!!!
Seriously, Mr. Whoever, you need to pull back here, stop thinking with your pecker. Where you headed, man? Chicago? Or somewhere else? Can you change your plans just like that? This is why it never works. I’ve seen it a million times, if I’ve seen it once. A little flirting, a little canoodling, and then the sun comes out and she’s going one way and he’s going another. So, just slow it down there. Both of you. Return to your corners and then go your separate ways.
Ok. Maybe I was wrong. She told him she loves cats. He does too. Maybe they are meant for each other. I know I don’t want anything to do with them. Alone or together, I’m done with them. If I could I’d lift my leg … well, hell, if I even had a leg to lift … I’d piss all over them. Cats!!
Yeah, dude, pull your phone out. Change your ticket. Go to Chicago. Get outta my face.
But I wish you the best of luck. Come back some time and tell me how it all turns out.
They never do.