At the Bar

“Here again, huh?” inquired the bartender.

“Yeah. I know I’m probably your best customer or something by now, aren’t I?” said the man, giving the bartender a slight grin.

Nah. I had a guy who was worse than you are right now. WAY worse. But you are catching up to him.

Gee, thanks for the pep talk.

Don’t mention it. Now what can I get ya? smirked the bartender.

Just give me a pint. I need something to keep my mind busy for a little while.

“You got it” said the bartender, slowly smirking.

Oh, and ‘fore I forget, you mind making it a Guinness? Thanks.

No prob.

(The bartender grabs a glass, fills it with Guinness, and then passes it to the man, who starts drinking while thinking of all that he’s had going through in a short interval of time).

It’s been a crummy day—nah, scratch that—it’s been a crummy week. Got fired from my job and now I have to beg mom and dad to live with ‘em like I’m an eight year-old. Luckily, I have some money to tide me over while I look for a job, but I know that money ain’t gonna last me forever.

God, I really wish things’d just magically fall down from the sky like some Disney movie and everything’d all of a sudden be all hunky-dory and fantastic, but we’re not talking about some movie here. We’re talking about real life, and real life ain’t all sparkles and rainbows.

(As he thinks and drinks his beer, the bartender keeps tending the bar, and new customers who come in. Time passes, and fewer people are at the bar, but the man is still there).

Ugh, look at me, whining, bitching and moaning like if I were some spoiled rich daddy’s daughter. God, I hate them kinda folks, and yet, I might as well be turning into one. Fuck me.

Come on, Jake...you can do better than this. You shouldn’t be sitting at this bar sulking in your emotions like you’re a pity party—you should be trying to do something with your life.

(Jake drinks some more of the pint. He’s about halfway through it).

I am trying though, that’s the thing, and right now, it just doesn’t seem to be working. I ain’t a fan of pity parties, but I guess some sulking is the best I can do right now.

(Jake takes a big gulp of the pint).

Either way, whatever I think ain’t gonna stop things from happening or not. I’ve already sent my job offers and done all that shit anyway, so all I really have to do is wait, which sucks ass!

Easy there, calm down, Jake. Slow and steady wins the race. Slow and steady wins the race. Just let it do its thing, and it’ll get back to you.

(Jake takes another big gulp of the pint and finishes it, letting out a burp).

“Want another pint?” asked the bartender.

“Yeah” replied Jake somewhat resignedly.

(The bartender refills Jake’s glass with more Guinness before giving it back to him).

Mom and dad wouldn’t be too happy to see where I’m at right now. Especially not mom. I was always her “golden child” who could do no wrong. She’d freak out if she knew I was at a bar. I know that. So what do I tell her?

If I tell her the truth she’ll be super mad at me, saying that I’d wasted my money on alcohol (which is kinda true) and that I was always supposed to be so much better than that; basically ranting and raving like some crazed lunatic since I don’t have that job she was happy with anymore, but if I lie, she’ll figure it out somehow and still be mad at me, so either way, I get fucked.

I could just sneak in, but knowing my parents, that’s about as likely to happen as pigs flying into the sky, meaning basically a 0% chance, so I’d still have to walk in and face the music.

(Jake drinks a bit of the Guinness as the bartender looks around the bar, seeing a few other drinks nursing their brews, a few fellows seated in some tables and chairs, and sound from the TV set).

Dad wouldn’t be nearly as upset as mom ‘cause he never took things super seriously—probably ‘cause he was a surfer dude back in his day whose biggest worry was when the big wave’d come for him to ride—but he’d still make “tsk-tsk” noises while being totally focused on something else.

At least my younger brother’s still there, and he’s thankfully chill, but I dunno how much longer he’ll be there for since my parents have been demanding that he move out.

Man, going back to that family dynamic, even if it’s only for a few weeks, feels like a journey through hell with one good demon, one indifferent demon, and a thousand bad demons.

That said, what are the odds.....my life was going well, I was moving on, and then I get fired and thrown back in to the past I’d wanted to avoid.

(Jake drinks some more of the Guinness. The clock strikes close to midnight).

Guess I’ll be heading back in the early morning. Mark another nail in my coffin for my ma to hammer me with, but whatever. I’m not in the mood for dealing with her shit. I’m 26, goddamnit. If she wants to throw her hissy fit at me, she can throw her hissy fit, but I’ll soon be back at a job and won’t have to deal with her pity.

(He stares out the window briefly, seeing his reflection, before gulping).

Or at least, that’s what I hope...

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