Strange Conversations

A giggle drifted through the thick air and landed on his shoulder. The smell of gin and beer was thick, and he could taste the lipstick on the girl’s lip. He sat at the countertop, rolling around the ice in his mug. When he shifted, the seat groaned, and the residents went into an uproar.

“Another one, would you, old man?” The bartender nodded before sending off another beer towards the other customer.

“Right on it Mr. Blackton.”

There it was again. Ever since he had come in here, everyone had kept calling him Mr. Blackton. It was a strange feeling, since he was pretty sure he didn’t come here that often. At least, he thought.

He had been here, and he didn’t. His feet had lead him in here after wandering on the streets for a bit after work. Home was always an energy sucker, and work at the factory was no party.

He was pretty sure that he always walked by this place, going home to complain to himself in front of the tv, but having sat down at the bar, he was pretty sure he hadn’t.

The bell chimed in a new busybody who sat down right beside him.

“Ello’ Blackton, nice to see you here. Hope you had a nice day?” He decided to go along with it. 

“Would and I wouldn’t be sitting here right now.” He laughed.

“You’re right about that. Why, this joint wouldn’t even have business if everyone had a good day.”

The old man placed my second drink down and smiled at the other guy beside me.

“Nice to see again, Mr. Calloway. The usual?”

“You betcha’.”

He wore boxed jeans, that folded over air and made him take up more space than needed. His beard was half-shaven, much like Mr. Blackton’s, but his eyes were more lively, more with a burst. His smile was wide, and his teeth was white. What was a man like him wasting his life away here?

Mr. Calloway turned to Mr. Blackton.

“So, about that deal. We got to call it off, man. No point in trying to swindle the diamond when Mr. Mcrae could be sniffing around.”

He took a slow sip of his beer. Wait, what? 

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