Evil Editor's Blog, page 434

BarkEEp 9

So I'm tending bar for Frank to pay him back for all the times he read slush for me, and I'm thinking I'll close early because the place is empty, when in walks this babe. She looks me up and down and I pretty much know what she's thinking. She's thinking, Hey, you're not Frank . . . not that I'm complaining, cowboy. She's thinking, Nice chops; heavy, but well-maintained, not out-of-control like some Welsh shepherd, more like a king woulda worn back when men were men and not pussies. She's think

BarkEEp 8

"Frank. Hey, Fraaannnnk! Where are ya? Are ya back in the stock room, buddy? 'Cause I've got my latest tail of whoa for ya... I walked down to the back of the bar, past the tacky stools and the walls of old pine paneling; looked down the hall toward the restrooms and the rooms with the spare kegs and stuff, and tried again.

"Hey. Frankster. Got the latest 'Whoa..Tail' for ya."

About that time was when I heard the noise behind me, behind the bar; but Frank hadn't been behind the bar when I wal

BarkEEp 7

"Knowing Harry, he's booked Aer Lingus with that redhead," Chamika batted her eyelashes at EE.

"I don't care Toots," EE answered, pouring her "Fire God" Margarita. Chamika made an extravagant show of picking up the Margarita, sipping it and savoring its mind-numbing goodness.

"Roughage will cure that disposition barkeep." She sauntered away on legs so long that even Wilt the Stilt would have to look up to see her whoopee cakes jiggle. Every male eye in the joint followed her. So engrossed, I hiked

BarkEEp 6

I was running, running through a city of stone and ice and they were behind me and I couldn't get away and I dodged into a building and slammed the door behind me.

"Excuse me," said a creaky voice from the other end of the room.

Panting, I listened to the monsters dribble by outside. "Yeah?"

"Are you 21? Because this is a bar."

I looked at him with desperate eyes. "Look, whoever you are, I've got a 10-story-tall glob of smelly stuff chasing me around the streets. I don't care about drin

BarkEEp 5

I made my way to the bar in a blur of tears and pulled up a stool next to my buddy.

"Sayyyy, Frank," I drawled, my voice almost throttled by anguish.

"Sorry pal, I ain't Frank," came a reply: gruff, blunt and weary sounding. When I cleared my eyes, there was this fat guy, looking how I felt. In that moment, my life changed forever.

We gazed at each other for one helluva time, the sadness written on both our faces slowly erased by the emerging frisson swelling between us. Hesitantly he reached out a

BarkEEp 4

I walked into the Diamond Bar and saw a man on stage grinding in a blue thong. Hell yes, I thought, and noticed all the men sitting at the bar. The shift in prospects didn't phase me like it normally would; I had almost filled my quota for the night. I grabbed a stool between Greek and God and looked for the bartender. Usually there's a hot young thing behind the bar in a joint like this, but there was a man in short pants and suspenders stocking the coolers. When he opened his mouth, he sounded

BarkEEp 3

So I walk into my favorite bar at one in the mornin', see, and the place is dead, like I been sucked into the anti-blogosphere. The regulars are all there; they just ain't talkin' and there's this new guy polishing the bar. I saunter to my bar stool but it's covered with ash. So I says, "What kinda smokes make this much mess?"

"Writers," the barman says, then glares. "What'll it be?"

I sit on a different stool, feelin' awkward. "Um--" I read his name tag. "EE, gimme a Shirley Temple with extra syr

BarkEEp 2

I crash down onto my favourite stool, and say, "The usual, Frank."

Then it registers. It's not Frank behind the bar; it's some older guy, with wild grey whiskers and a dangerous gleam in his eye. "Usual?" he says.

"Scotch."

"Predictable," he says, but pours it anyway.

"I need it," I say, "I'm having a hell of a time at home ..."

"Another story about a middle-aged man in a mid-life crisis?" he sneers.

"Yeah, well, what am I gonna do? I've been put down, I've been humiliated, I've been treated like dirt

BarkEEp 1

I oozed into the bar looking for sympathy. "Hey Fra- you're not Franco." Some old guy with a dead rat stuck to each cheek was behind the bar. "Where's Franco?"

"Hospital."

"Gimme a beer." His shirt was too clean for a bartender. "Who're you?"

The guy put the beer down like he was afraid it might explode on impact. I didn't like the way he was looking at me. "Strictly speaking," he said, "I'm the guy that put Franco in the hospital."

I sucked down half my beer. The old fart didn't scare me. "Yeah?"

"Y

Saturday Film Series

If I'd known I could put the Youtube version directly on the blog, providing a larger screen (and the ability to make it full-screen) without the need to create a link to Youtube, I'd have been doing so all along. Why didn't you tell me?