Drop #162: Night Out

IMG_3586I was supposed to go out last night with Pete and Jack but fell asleep on the couch. I called Pete around noon:

‘How was your night?’ I asked.

‘Amazing. So much fun. You really missed out. We went to this insane place, the Deadshot Saloon. What a bar! Non-stop action and mad energy all night long. Awesome country music with hot waitresses in cowboy boots and tiny shorts dancing on the table, pouring free shots in your mouth from the bottle. Cheap drinks and fifty cent buffalo wings, great crowd, everyone tipsy and having fun, no pretension, so happening, bras hanging from the roof. God it was a blast. There were—shit, sorry, I have another line. Call you back.’

Jack happened to call two minutes later.

‘So, you have a good night last night?’ I asked him.

‘Awful,’ he answered. ‘You’re so lucky you didn’t make it out. We ended up at this absolute shit hole of a honky-tonk joint with the most obnoxious crowd you can think of. So cheesy. So cheap. Bad liquor. Crap loud music through busted speakers and the most cliché thing ever: crass ugly barmaids doing a ridiculous fake cow girl dance on the bar in boots with fat asses hanging out of their too small shorts, pouring drinks all over your face without you asking, screaming non stop. The place was tiny and crowded and annoying, stinking of sweat and old booze, full of drunk sweaty douchebags shouting, always pushing to get by, bumping you, spilling pitchers of beer on you. Only nasty greasy chicken wings to eat and—oh, sorry, I have another line. I’ll have to call you back’

By E.M. Vireo

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About EM Vireo
flooding the world with fiction

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