Scary Monsters and Super Creeps...
Did I just see something slither to the shadow? Trip to the ice machine, all that is frozen in time like that cockroach, just kidding. I need to get my peripheral vision checked. I'm sure I just saw something flee to the darkness under the stairs. That bulb over there above the jukebox has been flickering for about five years. Probably sending a signal to the aliens. In the sink, squeeze out the towels drowned in last night's bleach. Such nice hands, once. Open the cooler. That Pepsi bottle has been in there since pagers were popular with coke dealers.
The cut limes, the sliced lemons, the good fruit of the earth, smell them, touch them, slimy and rotten. Fired into the waste. Jeezzuz! The olive tray has a strange film on it. The last time a martini was poured in here, Roger Moore was Bond. The olives look like shriveled testicles. Not what you'd expect to find in the sack with Mr. Shaken Not Stirred. Fired into the f****** waste.
Cut oranges for Blue Moon, but it's more like Dark Side of the Moon in here. Cut new limes. Cut lemons, two for a dollar. Expect scurvy to break out in the neighborhood soon. Fingers sticky from cherry juice. Lickety-lick-lick. I see the thing again hiding beneath the stairs -- oh, that's it -- my soul.
He has his phone stuck in my face.
This is how you make a Zombie! Light Rum, Gold Rum, Dark Rum, pineapple, grenadine, apricot brandy. Make it for me now, man! he screams.
Add a large heap of brown sugar, man! Make it sweet! I say. The bartender's secret ingredient. It gives zombies a real kick in the balls, guarantees a zombificated high of extraordinary measure. You'll be sucking sidewalks after drinking this Zombie. Your pancreas will f****** explode!
I pour the sugar in and screech like a fiend attached by hose to a tank of laughing gas.
High five!
And when you add Red Bull to it, man, you'll be really flying, your heart will look like one of those hearts on a Valentine's Day card, bursting with love. Have you ever had your heart burst open? It's fantastic, better than a roller coaster ride upside down.
Yeah! Let's do it, man! he cheers, veins exploding in his eyeballs.
I take his $15, which is cheaper than a visit to the doctor. And the undertaker.
At closing time, I look for my soul under the stairs and stitch it back to my body like the stitching on Frankenstein's neck.
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