Old Guard's Tavern

[Blackburn 24]

A standard pub style restaurant located in Clinton on the corner of Park Ave and Easton Street.

[H. Goodricht]

*Getting away from the ERT usually means getting out of town too. After my shift ends, and that heathen Big Jim is left to probably sleep through someone's 911 calls, I need a drink. My wife is gone out of town, so I head to the Old Guard, to have a beer and watch some baseball.*

'Hey Steve. I need a beer, if I had to spend another hour at work, I'd be on that TV right now!'

[J. "Big Jim" Kowalski]

'Hey Henry!' I yell excitedly as I waddle through the front door towards the bar.

'Would you like a table, sir?' the hostess asks as I waddle by her podium.

'No thanks baby girl. I'm just heading over to the bar.' I say in reply waving to Goodricht.

I huff and puff my way over to Goodricht.

'I've never seen you in here before' I say to him as I attempt and struggle to plant my wide ass into on of the bar seats. By some miracle of God I manage to plant myself in the seat. The outer edges of my ass spill over the poor chair, nearly consuming it.

'This is my usual hangout....the wife's off playing bingo tonight...so you know...tonight my boys night.' I say to Henry chuckling in between deep breathes.

*I finally adjust myself into a comfortable position and let out a huge sigh*

'Ugggghhhhh man. They keep making these damn seats smaller.' I say as I wave down the bartender.

'Hey Steve!' I say to him.

'What's goin' on Jim?' I replies back. 'What'll you have tonight'

'Aww man. I'm parched. I'll have a Bud Light.' I reply.

'Anything to eat there Jimmy?' he asks as he pulls out an empty glass and starts filling it with yellow light beer goodness.

'Yeah, you know me.' I laugh. 'Let me do 30 hot wings, extra crispy and keep the ranch coming.'

I lean over to Goodricht: 'They got the best chicken wings this side of town....but they're always so damn skimpy on the ranch.'

'You got it Jim.' the bartender says as he slides my beer over to me.

'So Henry, what brings you around these parts tonight?'

Edited February 25, 2020 by Chris07

[H. Goodricht]

*You have to be shitting me. This lard? And he's got more energy in the past eight minutes it took him to walk the length of the bar and order waaaaay too many wings. Jesus. Maybe we need winner at 911*

'Jesus Jim, where's that energy when you're working?' I take this as some cruel joke. God either hates me or I'm just bound to like this guy. Fuck it. 'Would you believe that I fled Fort Shannon for a drink with nobody from work around? Guess that worked out pretty shit."

*I've got two choices, pray Jim will share his wings or order my own.*

'Fuck it, if I've gotta drink with this guy, might as well have some wings too. Give me what he's having, but in human portions please.'

[J. "Big Jim" Kowalski]

'Jesus Jim, where's that energy when you're working?'

'Hahahahahaha, good one.' I laugh heartily as I give Goodricht a firm smack on the back.

'Good thing I got you and Charles there to bust my balls and keep me in line, hahaha' I reply laughing, oblivious to his hostility.

'You know what? You're all right. Hell....' I pause and look for the bartender.

'Steve! Get this guy another drink on my tab.' I say happily as I give him another smack on the back.

'So the Mrs. kick you out tonight too? Hahaha.' 

Edited February 25, 2020 by Chris07

[H. Goodricht]

'Wasn't home to kick me out. Working away. I figured I could drink at home and clean those bottles up, or let someone do it for me. I chose the latter.'

*I don't know if he's oblivious or just friendly. Either way, I'll give it a go.*

'How do you afford to eat here? We don't pay you that good, do we?'

[J. "Big Jim" Kowalski]

'Wasn't home to kick me out. Working away. I figured I could drink at home and clean those bottles up, or let someone do it for me. I chose the latter.'

'Yeah. I know the feeling. tonight's the night the wife goes out with her lady friends to play bingo at the bingo hall with all the blue hairs. Personally, I'd rather be hung up by my toe nails than have to sit through 3 hours of that. Instead, I come down here, grab a beer, some wings, and watch a game.' I say taking a large gulp of beer.

Beer foam lingers on my mustache.

'How do you afford to eat here? We don't pay you that good, do we?'

'Hahaha. Yeah. I know. Eating out can be quite expensive, but my wife and I aren't chefs by any means.'

I pause.

'You know, I'm one of the luckiest men on this damn earth.....you see....I have what many people call a "sugar momma"' I say lowering my voice a bit.

'I mean sure, I'm near top step for a floor dispatcher, but that's really all mine to spend. About 15 years ago, the misses created a VERY successful line of plus size women's apparel.' I say.

'So...she brings home the bread, I contribute a little, but it leaves me a lot to play with. Some guys spend money on their cars or build stuff...my hobby is...well this may come as a bit of a shock to you, but I'm a bit of a foodie. Ive even thought about starting a food blog.' I say to Henry, just pouring out my soul.

'...but lets just keep that between you and me.'

Edited February 25, 2020 by Chris07

[H. Goodricht]

'Well Jim, I think you can definitely sell yourself as a food expert. That's one thing you certainly seem to know well.' 

*Well, maybe he's not all bad.*

'Who knows, maybe you'll even get enough followers to make it a full time job' *And go sleep at home, instead of the 911 call centre.*

[J. "Big Jim" Kowalski]

'You trying to get rid of me there, Henry?' I say chuckling heartily. 

'Nah. I could never do anything but work the dispatch center full time. This is just a hobby of mine. Something for fun.' I say.

'I've been around that dispatch center so long I just can't be without it. You guys are like my extended family. We work hard together, and that's a bond you can't make up. I don't even know what I'd do when I retire.'

'...but listen to me. I rambling like a school girl over here.'

The bar tender brings us our wings. Mine comes out piled high on a large platter. With a gravy boat filled with ranch dressing.

'You know me too well there, Steve.' I say to the bartender gesturing over at the ranch filled gravy boat.

'Oh man.' I say as my mouth starts salivating like one of Pavlov's dogs. 'These things are the best.' I say as I pick up a drum stick coated in spicy wing sauce. My sausage finger grip in by end of the bone. I dunk the entire thing in ranch dressing before picking it up and putting in my mouth. Ranch dressing and red spicy wing sauce get on my mustache and facial hair.

*The wing lets out a crunch as I bite into it*

'mmmmm' I let out as I chew on the drumstick. Just as quickly as I put the drumstick into my mouth, I pull it out. No meat remains, just a clean white bone.

I put the bone on a side plate.

My mouth full of partially chewed chicken wing I look over at Goodricht:

'Good aren't they? You know they double fry these? That's the only way you can get them so crispy.' I say with my mouth full.

My fat ranch and wing sauce covered fingers go back to the platter for their next victim. An actual wing this time. It stands no chance. Into the ranch it goes.

[H. Goodricht]

*Well, there goes that pipe dream.*

'You can't blame a guy for trying, can ya Jim?'

*Watching Jim devour that chicken wing, I don't know how to react. It's disgusting but amazing. Clean. That's a talent.*

'Jim, you're truly a specimen. Of what, I don't know, but definitely a specimen.'

*I taste the wings, and goddamn, they really are amazing. I don't eat them like Jim, no one can, that's impossible, but I eat away.*

'Jesus Jim, you really know your shit. These are good.'

[J. "Big Jim" Kowalski]

‘You can't blame a guy for trying, can ya Jim?'

’Ha ha ha. You’re too much Henry. I know everyone would miss me too much....except maybe Charles. I just can’t quite put my finger on it, but he seems to have it out for me for some reason. Ever since he got that promotion over me some years back, he’s really been on me....but whatever, that’s his job I guess.’

*I de-meat another wing*

'Jesus Jim, you really know your shit. These are good.'

*My mouth is full of wings, my stack of pristinely cleaned bones is growing*

‘What did I tell you?’ I say with a mouth full of chicken as I dunk another wing in ranch.

‘I know my food, as you may have guessed’ I say while holding and shaking my massive gut. 

*I laugh. Small chunks of spit and wings fly everywhere, before I continue eating.*

’There’s two things in this world that I know a lot about: one is food, and the other is how to please a woman.’ 

*I stop eating and look over at Goodricht. I pick up my beer and prepare to drink it.*

’You see. My wife may be the queen of the household, but ‘ol Jim here is still king of the bedroom...ha ha ha ha’

*I take a drink. I hear Goodricht choke a bit (or perhaps gag).*

’Easy there, Henry. Remember to chew, I know they’re good..but trust me...you don’t want me to have to Heimlich you, ha ha ha ha.’

[H. Goodricht]

’Ha ha ha. You’re too much Henry. I know everyone would miss me too much....except maybe Charles. I just can’t quite put my finger on it, but he seems to have it out for me for some reason. Ever since he got that promotion over me some years back, he’s really been on me....but whatever, that’s his job I guess.’

*Charles? Jesus. Charles likes him. Me on the other hand, I'd sooner work with satan himself. At least he could consult on criminal activity. Nice guy, but clueless.

'Well, I guess people are who they are.'

 

’You see. My wife may be the queen of the household, but ‘ol Jim here is still king of the bedroom...ha ha ha ha’

*Jim. The bed. Oh god. I don't think I can eat any more. Change of topic, change of topic. Sweet honorable god.*

’Easy there, Henry. Remember to chew, I know they’re good..but trust me...you don’t want me to have to Heimlich you, ha ha ha ha.’

'Let's be honest Jim, there's no way you could do the heimlich on me. Let's be real. You'd kill me first.'

 

[J. "Big Jim" Kowalski]

‘Let's be honest Jim, there's no way you could do the heimlich on me. Let's be real. You'd kill me first.'

‘Ha ha ha. You’re probably right, I’d probably squeeze you too hard or something.’ I laugh as I pull out another clean bone.

My hand goes to the platter. It feels around. I look in horror as I discover the platter is empty! Some bastard must have eaten some of my wings! There’s no way I finished it all. I start to count bones and count 30 clean white pristine bones. Ooops. Guess I must have devoured them faster than I thought. Oh well.

*I eat the small fried bits left on the platter, then use my fingers to sop up all of the wing sauce left over.*

There’s ranch left in the gravy boat!

*I pick up the gravy boat and start to pour it into my upturned mouth.*

Once that’s gone, I use my finger to clean the gravy boat.

After everything is said and done, all I have in front of me now is a near empty pint of beer, a plate stacked with pristine looking bones, and a clean platter with a small pile of celery and carrot sticks that remain untouched.

‘Hey. Henry, you ever heard of a place called Frank’s Emporium?’ I say as I wipe my hand a clean of all evidence of my gluttony.

’It’s that place with that guy Crazy Frank you see on late night public access TV....anyway they got some neat stuff there. I got these neat shoes that double as a vacuum cleaner’ I say showing Goodricht a picture on my phone:

 

‘Pretty neat right?’ I say enthusiastically.

‘I got a real good deal on it. That Crazy Frank guy actually gave me $10 to take them. I can see why they call him Crazy Frank. I have no idea how he’s still in business.’ I chuckle.

‘Their inventory’s a little weird. The TV ad is true, he really doesn’t know what he’s selling...because he doesn’t do the buying.’

I finish off my beer.

’He was selling an Omega watch for $20, but was also selling a single Hershey kiss for $999. He’s crazy, but you should check it out. They got cool stuff. I’ve been eyeing this miniature dining table that has a chain attached so you can hang it around your neck.’ I say.

*Steve the bartender comes around and starts clearing my plates*

’Another drink Jim?’ He asks.

’No thanks Steve...but do you guys still have that double fudge and caramel king-sized brownie a la mode for two?’ I ask him.

’We sure do.’ He replies as he wipes up the mess i left on the bar top.

’Perfect put that in for me...You want anything Henry?’

[H. Goodricht]

*Watching Jim eat turns my stomach, so with that, I turn my head, finishing my wings in hopeful optimism that he'll stop.*

‘Pretty neat right?’ 

*Do they work? Does he actually vacuum?*

'Well, I mean, they're unique. *

....

’No thanks Steve...but do you guys still have that double fudge and caramel king-sized brownie a la mode for two?’

*Is he.. Ordering us a dessert? Is this a date with Big Jim?*

’Perfect put that in for me...You want anything Henry?’

*And, no it isn't.*

'Do you have something like that for one? Big Jim doesn't like to share apparently.' I say, nodding to the pile of wing bones.

•  

[Steve Bae]

I pull my 2020 Lamborghini Huracan Evo into the parking lot. oh god. this place is gross. i should have driven my lamer ferrari 488 or something. Oh well. I  take off my driving gloves and shoes, put on my normal shoes and go in.

 

I nearly immediately have a syncopal episode seeing one of the biggest people I've eaten outside the hospital setting. I literally have no idea who this monstrosity is but I must meet him.

 

"Hey, I'm Steve! Nice to meet you Jabba the Hutt. HAHA" I definitely dont shake his hand. I think I smell body cheese. Help.

 

I walk across to the other side of the restaurant, get a table for 2, I'll pick someone up tonight. easy.

Edited February 29, 2020 by losangelesi

[Steve Bae]

After a short amount of time in the bar, I realize I want to surf. I'm still getting weird looks. I pay everyone's tab and leave. 

 

Just as he goes outside, someone is smashing the window to his Lamborghini and security is running toward them. 

 

Just my sort of night. I call my mom and cry for a bit. 

[H. Goodricht]

*I walk into the bar and see it's pretty dead here. You can still smell the smoke from the fire in the air around Kimberley. What a shit show. I go up to the bar and order a beer. Let's see who shows up tonight.*

[Z. Russo]

*I walk in after work and take a seat at the bar. I've been coming here on and off for years but haven't been here in a while. I take a seat at the bar.*

'Boiler Maker, Murphys Irish red with a shot of Jameson.'

'Coming right up sir.'

*I like this bar, Its quiet and traditional. The bar tender is an older guy wearing a white button up shirt with a black tie. The music is playing low enough where you can hear it but its not distracting, The bartender quickly returns with my drink.*

'Starting a tab?'

'Sure, Also can I get a scotch egg with this?'

'No problem sir.'

*The bartender puts my order in on paper and hands it in to a cook behind the counter. Down the bar I see there's one more person at the bar, I raise my beer to him as he looks over at me.*

[H. Goodricht]

*I recognize that face from somewhere. Does he know me? Or is he just friendly. I figure I'll go up and say hi anyways, I guess my staff didn't want a drink today.*

'How you doing, Henry' I say, raising my glass a little. 'Whatcha drinkin?'

[Z. Russo]

*The guy down the bar walks over, As he approaches me he strikes me as familiar.*

'Irish Boiler Maker, Celebrating St. Pats a bit early. Say, you look familiar where do I know you from?'

[H. Goodricht]

'I've been told I have a stock photo face. Maybe I'm just one of those guys. Don't really go many places with work, so I doubt you've been seeing me around anywhere.'

*Irish Boiler maker. Right on. I'll celebrate, but Schnapps will be my drink. None of that stuff. Nope.*

'How about yourself. What do you do?'

[Z. Russo]

'Captain at the Sheriff's office.'

*I say as I take a sip of my beer.*

'How about you?'

[H. Goodricht]

*Sheriff! I knew it!*

'I'll be damned. I looked at you and knew you from somewhere. I run county comms for ERT. Guess I found one of the few people in Shiloh that would know me from work!'

*I lift my beer in part surprise, and part solidarity with his job. Jesus, I can just imagine the people he's gotta deal with.*

[Z. Russo]

'I remember you! I think you were in the EOC with me back in January after the cyber outage. How have you been since then?'

[H. Goodricht]

'Well, I'm here, in a bar, drinking alone. How's it look? Smell that lovely smell in the air? Not the stale beer, the toher smell. Yeah, that's the smell of how my day way. That major fire is gonna eat us alive.'

*Cyber outage, I remember that. Jesus, we worked fine 40 years ago, but now with none of the infrastructure, it's a wonder we're alive at all.*