A Different Planet for Bartenders
I guess it was
assumed I was
supposed to be an
inexhaustible source
of useless information.
A noise finished on
the infernal machine
and he asked me:
"What was that, how
many minutes is it &
who was the artist?"
"First of all, "I sd
"If you're referring
to the noise, I have
a blocking mechanism
that blots that out.
Secondly, I like
Mozart and that wasn't
by him.
Lastly,
if we're going to do
trivia let's do
something interesting
like how many symphonies
did Haydn write
or what do the initials
of famous writer's
stand for.
I'll go
first Thomas Sterns is
for T.S. Eliot."
The look he gave me
suggested I wasn't
the type of bartender
he was used to.
He might even think
I was that legendary
bartender from
another planet.
Transmissions from
space.
All kinds. Mostly
radio
the future will look like
once
we take
over.
It won’t be pretty for you
guys
that’s for sure but given
what
you’ve done to this
planet,
what do you
expect?
Yeah, lots of people have
said
I’m a few pills short of a
commitment.
Truth is I have been
committed.
Bunches of times. In fact, I’m out now
on a work release
program.
Gathering information. That’s my job,
king o sabe. I’m working
incognito like
James Bond only better
looking.
Nothing some cosmetic surgery
and a few
false teeth couldn’t
fix.
Gotta cigarette? No, how
about a quarter?
No, it’s doesn’t pay
well. Hey, when
you’re
a sleeper agent, you have to
take the good
with the bad. You know, go
with the flow.
Be authentic, dude. I’m as authentic as it
gets.
I do have one major
worry. Sometimes I
get
video messages. I know most people
would
need a TV for that but I’m
different.
The problem is the signals
are changing
and I don’t have a convertor
box.
What if a vital message comes
through
after the change and I don’t
get it?
Where will I be then ? What will I do?
“Do you believe in aliens from other planets?
I do. And they have much longer memories
than ours.” Christopher Reiner, “Pain”
After the alien abduction, she swore off
derelicts and drunks, said she was a changed
woman, something like a nun but not quite
as pure, a kind of bride to a Christ with
no hair, a long white beard, who stood
twelve feet tall.
Naked, he was like a God
and after she gave herself to him there would
be no other. She swore he said he’d be back
for her when the time was right, though she
neglected to ask how he measured time,
a failing that might prove fatal if his standards
were radically different than ours. Not that
it
mattered to her; she’d wait forever if
necessary.
She’s still waiting.
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