A Strange Request at a Piano Bar
For a birthday present, I got a writing prompt book that gives a situation to write about and several words that must be used during the writing. Because I can't think of anything else to write about AND I have spent many a night at a piano bar... I will use this prompt for this week's writing. I hope it's decent.
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One afternoon in San Antonio, as Athen sat in piano bar drinking his sour apple martini, a young man approached with a proposition. That adventure would live in Athen's memory as one of the greatest nights of his life.
There he sat, bemoaning his aloneness, hoping eventually his buddies would indeed come out for an early afternoon drink. Then he could go home, go to bed, and repeat the same process tomorrow. Athen's life had become a version of the movie Groundhog Day; nothing ever different happened. Maybe that's why Athen chose the most basic white girl drink he could find that afternoon. Maybe that's why when George walked into the piano bar and requested his favorite song, he took it as a sign. Maybe it was. Maybe it wasn't. Athen will never know. All that matters is the choice he made in that split second after the piano player crooned the lines "the marching band refused to yield."
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Athen watched and listened intently as the dark haired man ordered what could only be some weird alcoholic version of apple cider. When the bar tender asked, obviously very annoyed, "what the hell is an Autumn Manhattan?"
"If I give you the recipe, can you make it?" the man asked.
"Depends what's in it."
As the man began to list the ingredients (all fairly run of the mill until he got to the sassafras bitters), he also took out a small bag and handed it to the bar tender. "Everything else you need is in here... and the recipe. Now, can you make it or not?"
"Fine, but you better make my time worth it."
"I will." The bartender turned away and began to mix the strange drink. Honestly, it looked disgusting when the bartender had finished.
"Here. Do you have a credit card to start a tab?" questioned the bartender, still angry about the time this new man had wasted in his bar.
"Yup. Here you go. Also, please store my bag here for me, as I plan to be here a lot in the next few months," the man said, as he twirled the credit card between his fingers on its way to the bar tender. Athen managed to get a glimpse of the first name on the card.
George. Really this alluring man's name was George? Didn't that name go out of style in the forties? Weird. Athen though as he continued to watch George and wonder what he did. And where he found this strange drink order. And why there was a mask hanging out of the impressive leather briefcase from which the magical drink bag had been pulled. Trully, Athen didn't just watch George; he awkwardly inspected every part of George. His eyes. His hands. His clothes. Everything. Especially the leather briefcase... it seemed to call to Athen. Eventually, George took notice of Athen straining to memorize every detail of him, and wandered over.
"Hello," George mumbled.
"Hi," Athen said.
"Did you want to purchase something from me?"
"Purchase?" I wondered out loud.
"Yes. I am a salesman who specializes in the strange and delightful, as you can see from my choice of libations."
His libations? What century does this guy think he's in?
"No, I'm not interested in buying anything, but I am interested in your drink. I've never heard of it before and the bar tender didn't seem to either. Where have you had it before?"
At that moment, George went back to his breifcase and pulled out what looked to be a copper book. The oxidation was so intense, that the item had turned the telling shade of green, but Athen could tell it had been a book at one time, held together by leather straps.
When George laid the book in front of him, Athen gasped. The cover had a juvenile's drawing of what could only be a carnival, but it wasn't the same carnival Athen had experienced in his younger days at the rodeo in Houston or on the side of the road in a random parking lot. This was the Carnival of Weirdos he had only heard about from his grandfather when he was young. The story Athen hadn't thought about since his grandfather died ten years ago came back to him immediately.
He heard his grandfather's voice all over again... I had just brought down the house with my show. I could sing like a nightingale and dance like Astaire, but that wasn't enough. I wasn't weird enough to stay, and the owner had dealt with enough controversy letting me recuperate from my badly sprained back before ejecting me from the traveling show. It was time for me to move on.
"Where did you get this?" Athen asked George.
"From my father. Why? Have you seen this book before?"
"No. But the cover reminds me of a story my grandfather told me when I was young."
"Really? Why don't we find a booth and talk about him? I would love to hear a story that has caused you to stop breathing." Athen hadn't even realized it, but he had stopped breathing for a short moment, as he remembered the story his grandfather told him. He had even tuned out the music of the piano player, and had missed most of the song he had paid five dollars to hear. In that moment, Athen made the choice that would change his life.
"Why don't you just follow me home to Houston, where we can clean that book up and read it together?"
George stared at him, then nodded. And they both walked out of the bar as the piano player continued with the song, "Cause the fire is the devil's only friend..."
-----
One afternoon in San Antonio, as Athen sat in piano bar drinking his sour apple martini, a young man approached with a proposition. That adventure would live in Athen's memory as one of the greatest nights of his life.
There he sat, bemoaning his aloneness, hoping eventually his buddies would indeed come out for an early afternoon drink. Then he could go home, go to bed, and repeat the same process tomorrow. Athen's life had become a version of the movie Groundhog Day; nothing ever different happened. Maybe that's why Athen chose the most basic white girl drink he could find that afternoon. Maybe that's why when George walked into the piano bar and requested his favorite song, he took it as a sign. Maybe it was. Maybe it wasn't. Athen will never know. All that matters is the choice he made in that split second after the piano player crooned the lines "the marching band refused to yield."
-------
Athen watched and listened intently as the dark haired man ordered what could only be some weird alcoholic version of apple cider. When the bar tender asked, obviously very annoyed, "what the hell is an Autumn Manhattan?"
"If I give you the recipe, can you make it?" the man asked.
"Depends what's in it."
As the man began to list the ingredients (all fairly run of the mill until he got to the sassafras bitters), he also took out a small bag and handed it to the bar tender. "Everything else you need is in here... and the recipe. Now, can you make it or not?"
"Fine, but you better make my time worth it."
"I will." The bartender turned away and began to mix the strange drink. Honestly, it looked disgusting when the bartender had finished.
"Here. Do you have a credit card to start a tab?" questioned the bartender, still angry about the time this new man had wasted in his bar.
"Yup. Here you go. Also, please store my bag here for me, as I plan to be here a lot in the next few months," the man said, as he twirled the credit card between his fingers on its way to the bar tender. Athen managed to get a glimpse of the first name on the card.
George. Really this alluring man's name was George? Didn't that name go out of style in the forties? Weird. Athen though as he continued to watch George and wonder what he did. And where he found this strange drink order. And why there was a mask hanging out of the impressive leather briefcase from which the magical drink bag had been pulled. Trully, Athen didn't just watch George; he awkwardly inspected every part of George. His eyes. His hands. His clothes. Everything. Especially the leather briefcase... it seemed to call to Athen. Eventually, George took notice of Athen straining to memorize every detail of him, and wandered over.
"Hello," George mumbled.
"Hi," Athen said.
"Did you want to purchase something from me?"
"Purchase?" I wondered out loud.
"Yes. I am a salesman who specializes in the strange and delightful, as you can see from my choice of libations."
His libations? What century does this guy think he's in?
"No, I'm not interested in buying anything, but I am interested in your drink. I've never heard of it before and the bar tender didn't seem to either. Where have you had it before?"
At that moment, George went back to his breifcase and pulled out what looked to be a copper book. The oxidation was so intense, that the item had turned the telling shade of green, but Athen could tell it had been a book at one time, held together by leather straps.
When George laid the book in front of him, Athen gasped. The cover had a juvenile's drawing of what could only be a carnival, but it wasn't the same carnival Athen had experienced in his younger days at the rodeo in Houston or on the side of the road in a random parking lot. This was the Carnival of Weirdos he had only heard about from his grandfather when he was young. The story Athen hadn't thought about since his grandfather died ten years ago came back to him immediately.
He heard his grandfather's voice all over again... I had just brought down the house with my show. I could sing like a nightingale and dance like Astaire, but that wasn't enough. I wasn't weird enough to stay, and the owner had dealt with enough controversy letting me recuperate from my badly sprained back before ejecting me from the traveling show. It was time for me to move on.
"Where did you get this?" Athen asked George.
"From my father. Why? Have you seen this book before?"
"No. But the cover reminds me of a story my grandfather told me when I was young."
"Really? Why don't we find a booth and talk about him? I would love to hear a story that has caused you to stop breathing." Athen hadn't even realized it, but he had stopped breathing for a short moment, as he remembered the story his grandfather told him. He had even tuned out the music of the piano player, and had missed most of the song he had paid five dollars to hear. In that moment, Athen made the choice that would change his life.
"Why don't you just follow me home to Houston, where we can clean that book up and read it together?"
George stared at him, then nodded. And they both walked out of the bar as the piano player continued with the song, "Cause the fire is the devil's only friend..."
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