Yesterday, on my way home from the library,
I instinctually stopped at a local bar for a drink.
The bartender was a frog and a surly frog at
that.  I asked him for a beer, a local Summit
Ale.  He said they had none.  I asked for a
Grain Belt, also local, and they had none of
that either.  I thought, what the hell, I'm thirsty,
and asked for a Budweiser.  The frog had no
Budweiser.  Lighting a cigarette, I said, "is this
a bar or a frog pond?"  The frog flicked his
tongue, pulled the cigarette right out of my
hand, and, just like that, flipped it between
his own lips.  He took a deep drag, blew a ring
or two then finally spoke, saying, "If you want
a beer, you'll have to try the pottery shop next
door.  Judy's always drinking beer, I'm sure
she'll let you have one."  So I said, "Fine, give
me a shot of canadian then, and I'll go next
door to Judy's for a chaser," but the frog
replied, "All we serve here is horseradish, you want
some horseradish?" to which I said, "no, not really."
The frog blew another smoke ring and just stared
at me.  I couldn't help but notice his weird
ceramic hat, so, just to make polite conversation,
I said, "nice hat, where'd you get it?" and he said,
"Judy makes 'em.  Go next door if you want one,"
which really began to irritate me, so I asked,
"Do you do much business in here?" which he
ignored.  I'd had about enough of this frog and
as I got up to leave I said, "You know, this is a
pretty crappy bar," to which he replied, "I know,
it draws flies."  He began to look at me with an
almost surreal hunger, but before he could flick
his tongue again, I flew out of there as fast as my
little wings would take me.  I don't know why,
but I keep going back to that place.  Go figure.

05/21/2007

Author's Note: published in Shakespeare's Monkey Revue

Posted on 05/21/2007
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