Story by Cyranny
“Hit me again, man!”
The old neon lights flickered annoyingly, giving a cheap stroboscopic feeling to every move the barman made, behind the counter. Bolt pushed his empty glass on the bar.
“If I keep the refills coming, you’ll get totally hammered. You know that, right?”
Bolt’s stare back was probably intended as a clear request to shut up and fill his glass, but since the bar tender didn’t show any intention of reaching for the scotch bottle, Bolt mumbled…
“That would be the plan. Unless you suddenly have scruples?”
The barman laughed, and his very white teeth blinked like a Cheshire Cat disco smile.
“And what is the occasion, if I may ask?”
Bolt frowned, still waiting for his booze.
“Remember the red head girl I offered a ride home, last Friday?” The barman nodded. “Well, I gave her a ride, home. I nailed her. “
The bar tender finally reached for the bottle on the shelf.
“Did your wife….?”
“Yup, she found out. I am a terrible liar.”
The man poured him a double and gave him a sympathetic look.
“Oh, Bolt… I am sorry.”
Bolt downed the drink, and handed his glass for another.
“Yup, I’m screwed.”