Happy Sour - Friday Flash
“Bit of a misnomer if you stop to think about it really.”
The speaker jutted his chin forward by way of indication and his three drinking companions all craned their heads as if they were linked by a series of gears and pulleys. Each struggled to focus, until one took in the wall mounted jukebox selector, the second latched on to the optics and the third’s view encompassed some horse brasses on a ledge running just beneath the eaves.
“‘Happy Hour’ is anything but, I would say.” All three synchronously adjusted their necks until they were regarding the sign that read Happy Hour - all drinks half-price 5-6pm.
“People neck drinks at a tremendous rate during that hour, cramming in as many units as possible in some sort of misguided notion of value for money.” He was glancing up at a large clock mounted above the bar as he was talking. His partners all reflexively looked at their watches, other than the one with the naked wrist who picked up his phone and lit it up to consult the time. All synchronously agreed it was almost five.
“At best it provokes a maudlin sensibility, at worst it leads to violence as the alcohol loosens the brakes on pent up aggression. Neither could be said to be consonant with the concept of 'happy'.”
“Happy sours then?”
“Well seeing as we’re here, why don’t we buck the trend and avail ourselves of this advantageous consumer opportunity and yet show ourselves to be fully in control and to leave thereafter. Without causing any fuss or bother”.
“Yeah, why not?”
“Would seem churlish not to really.”
“Well Gavin is the very definition of a churl. A churl in action.”
The first speaker nudged the four empty beer glasses together on the table. He stood up “Would a churl calculate that if he bought the next round, at reduced price, he would then be quids in for the next three rounds bought by his hapless drinking mates?” He plunged his fingers down pincering the inside rims of the glasses and scooped them all up like a mechanical claw in a pier treasure grabbing chamber.
“Wow, talking of bucking the trend, Gav’s getting a round in”. The man whipped out his phone and fired off a photo. His compadres grinned as they pored over the phone’s small screen as if they were disbelieving of the image that would show up there to confirm the evidence of their own eyes.
He walked over to the bar, plopped the glass quaternity down on the counter and followed the publican’s gaze as he levered his head up to contemplate him. He broke off eye contact as he consulted the clock behind the barman’s head. He tracked the second hand’s lick around the dial as it made its hectic progress towards the other two hands pendulously poised on the brink of the figure twelve. As the second hand initiated the three-handed superimposition, it dragged all three over to split the twin digits forming the twelve. “Fill them up again please.”
The barkeep set two of the glasses beneath the taps while the man turned around to grin at his mates, leaning against the bar counter in his insouciance. The barkeep set the full glasses on the counter and set about the remaining two glasses. Gavin turned ponderously to admire the glasses, as their misted effervescence began to clear. The last two glasses were placed down next to them.
“Don’t be doing that thing sticking your fingers in the head of our beers now Gav. It’s alright for empty glasses, but you bring them over unsullied okay?”
Gavin flicked him a two finger salute behind his back as he addressed the man behind the bar. “How much do I owe you my good man?” The barman’s fingers danced on the buttons of his cash register and the pealing chime announced the calculation was complete.
“Twelve pounds on the nose thank you.”
“That doesn’t sound like half-priced?”
“It isn’t. Full price”.
“But it’s after five” as Gavin raised his wrist even while his eyes went up to the large clock behind the man.
“Oh it’s set five minutes fast.” Gavin wafted his watch in the man’s face. “I have to go by the clock in here, otherwise it would all be chaos.”
“You’re cheating. You got it set fast to diddle us honest drinkers. What a con”. He turned round to appeal for support from his fellows.
“Yes poor show barkeep. Low-down and dirty that is.”
“Caveat venditor. Just send the drinks back Gavin.”
Gavin resumed confronting the publican. “That’s a point. We haven’t touched a drop of these drinks and it’s now showing five past five, so we’re officially in ‘Happy Hour’.”
“Sorry, we go by the time on the receipt. Look, four-fifty-five pm.”
“What, that’s set five minutes fast as well?”
“No, that’s electronic. Can’t meddle with the setting on that.”
“Well what is the flipping time exactly?” One of the other men left the table and joined Gavin by the bar.
“Let’s get it definitive. Why not call the ‘Speaking Clock?” suggested Stevo.
“Do they still even have that in service?” inquired Gavin. His buddy indicated the phone on the counter.
“Make sure you’ve a lot of change to hand” offered the barman. Gavin glared at him. “If it does still exist, it’s bound to be premium rate. It will fair gobble up your money.”
The second man turned back to the pair still sat at the table “Terry just look it up on your phone. It’s all satellite linked, so can’t get more acc-”
But Gavin had grabbed hold of the barkeep by the lapels and had lifted him across the counter. “You sir are right royally taking the piss.”
“Jesus Gav, leave it out!”
“Told you he was a churl in action” Terry said even as he rose from the table.
“Happy sour” muttered the fourth man under his breath as he too rose.
Gavin now pulled the barman entirely over the counter and threw him to the floor and set about him with his fists. Stevo started in with some judicious kicks, trying not to connect with Gavin straddled over the prone barman. Terry had reached the throng and was stamping on the man’s writhing ankles. The fourth man was advancing slowly, but as he reached the bar he picked up one of the glasses and took a copious swig.
“Guess we didn’t buck the trend after all” as he proceeded to wipe the froth from his mouth.
The speaker jutted his chin forward by way of indication and his three drinking companions all craned their heads as if they were linked by a series of gears and pulleys. Each struggled to focus, until one took in the wall mounted jukebox selector, the second latched on to the optics and the third’s view encompassed some horse brasses on a ledge running just beneath the eaves.
“‘Happy Hour’ is anything but, I would say.” All three synchronously adjusted their necks until they were regarding the sign that read Happy Hour - all drinks half-price 5-6pm.
“People neck drinks at a tremendous rate during that hour, cramming in as many units as possible in some sort of misguided notion of value for money.” He was glancing up at a large clock mounted above the bar as he was talking. His partners all reflexively looked at their watches, other than the one with the naked wrist who picked up his phone and lit it up to consult the time. All synchronously agreed it was almost five.
“At best it provokes a maudlin sensibility, at worst it leads to violence as the alcohol loosens the brakes on pent up aggression. Neither could be said to be consonant with the concept of 'happy'.”
“Happy sours then?”
“Well seeing as we’re here, why don’t we buck the trend and avail ourselves of this advantageous consumer opportunity and yet show ourselves to be fully in control and to leave thereafter. Without causing any fuss or bother”.
“Yeah, why not?”
“Would seem churlish not to really.”
“Well Gavin is the very definition of a churl. A churl in action.”
The first speaker nudged the four empty beer glasses together on the table. He stood up “Would a churl calculate that if he bought the next round, at reduced price, he would then be quids in for the next three rounds bought by his hapless drinking mates?” He plunged his fingers down pincering the inside rims of the glasses and scooped them all up like a mechanical claw in a pier treasure grabbing chamber.
“Wow, talking of bucking the trend, Gav’s getting a round in”. The man whipped out his phone and fired off a photo. His compadres grinned as they pored over the phone’s small screen as if they were disbelieving of the image that would show up there to confirm the evidence of their own eyes.
He walked over to the bar, plopped the glass quaternity down on the counter and followed the publican’s gaze as he levered his head up to contemplate him. He broke off eye contact as he consulted the clock behind the barman’s head. He tracked the second hand’s lick around the dial as it made its hectic progress towards the other two hands pendulously poised on the brink of the figure twelve. As the second hand initiated the three-handed superimposition, it dragged all three over to split the twin digits forming the twelve. “Fill them up again please.”
The barkeep set two of the glasses beneath the taps while the man turned around to grin at his mates, leaning against the bar counter in his insouciance. The barkeep set the full glasses on the counter and set about the remaining two glasses. Gavin turned ponderously to admire the glasses, as their misted effervescence began to clear. The last two glasses were placed down next to them.
“Don’t be doing that thing sticking your fingers in the head of our beers now Gav. It’s alright for empty glasses, but you bring them over unsullied okay?”
Gavin flicked him a two finger salute behind his back as he addressed the man behind the bar. “How much do I owe you my good man?” The barman’s fingers danced on the buttons of his cash register and the pealing chime announced the calculation was complete.
“Twelve pounds on the nose thank you.”
“That doesn’t sound like half-priced?”
“It isn’t. Full price”.
“But it’s after five” as Gavin raised his wrist even while his eyes went up to the large clock behind the man.
“Oh it’s set five minutes fast.” Gavin wafted his watch in the man’s face. “I have to go by the clock in here, otherwise it would all be chaos.”
“You’re cheating. You got it set fast to diddle us honest drinkers. What a con”. He turned round to appeal for support from his fellows.
“Yes poor show barkeep. Low-down and dirty that is.”
“Caveat venditor. Just send the drinks back Gavin.”
Gavin resumed confronting the publican. “That’s a point. We haven’t touched a drop of these drinks and it’s now showing five past five, so we’re officially in ‘Happy Hour’.”
“Sorry, we go by the time on the receipt. Look, four-fifty-five pm.”
“What, that’s set five minutes fast as well?”
“No, that’s electronic. Can’t meddle with the setting on that.”
“Well what is the flipping time exactly?” One of the other men left the table and joined Gavin by the bar.
“Let’s get it definitive. Why not call the ‘Speaking Clock?” suggested Stevo.
“Do they still even have that in service?” inquired Gavin. His buddy indicated the phone on the counter.
“Make sure you’ve a lot of change to hand” offered the barman. Gavin glared at him. “If it does still exist, it’s bound to be premium rate. It will fair gobble up your money.”
The second man turned back to the pair still sat at the table “Terry just look it up on your phone. It’s all satellite linked, so can’t get more acc-”
But Gavin had grabbed hold of the barkeep by the lapels and had lifted him across the counter. “You sir are right royally taking the piss.”
“Jesus Gav, leave it out!”
“Told you he was a churl in action” Terry said even as he rose from the table.
“Happy sour” muttered the fourth man under his breath as he too rose.
Gavin now pulled the barman entirely over the counter and threw him to the floor and set about him with his fists. Stevo started in with some judicious kicks, trying not to connect with Gavin straddled over the prone barman. Terry had reached the throng and was stamping on the man’s writhing ankles. The fourth man was advancing slowly, but as he reached the bar he picked up one of the glasses and took a copious swig.
“Guess we didn’t buck the trend after all” as he proceeded to wipe the froth from his mouth.
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