If you start at Mean Mike’s, walk out across Clayton Street and then turn right and walk to College Avenue, across College Avenue, you’ll see “Shitty” Bar. Both City Bar and Mean Mike’s serve alcohol. Any common themes end there. City Bar has high ceilings and wood paneled walls. There are plants and a classy bar. There’s a bartender named Evan Hille. He knows how to make every drink there is. And if you make up a drink name and ask him to make it, he will tell you to go to hell. That wouldn’t be so funny except that he says it so politely.

Travis sidles up to the bar in the back of the room, squeezing between two clusters of friends and holds out his five dollars. When Evan comes over to take his order, Travis asks for a Daisycutter. Evan replies, “Go to hell,” and smiles very nicely.

“Okay. How about a gin and tonic then.” Nodding, Evan moves to fetch the drink while Travis waits patiently and thinks about all the stupid drink names he’d come up with to fool old Evan. Travis isn’t a regular at the bar—he is a regular at Mean Mike’s—but Evan knows who he is because of the originality of his fake drink names: Daisycutter, Sea Urchin, Asimov cocktail, and Sapphire and Deluth, and the fact that he’s caught a show or two.

Evan comes back with a gin and tonic in a pint glass and put it in front of Travis. “Three dollars.”

Travis raises his eyebrows in surprise and looks to Evan.

“I liked that one,” Evan replies. “It was original.”

Travis smiles. “I got it from the name of a bomb they used to use in Vietnam.”

“Very appropriate.”

“Maybe I could talk you into making one, one of these days.”

Evan thinks about it. “What do you think it would be?”

“Probably a martini. I don’t really like martini’s, but that’s what it sounds like to me.”

“Yeah, a fruity one.” Evan takes Travis’s five dollars, and Travis walks away from the bar, figuring he’ll leave all the change since he is getting a heavy discount and he liked the repartee. A good repartee is worth at least two bucks. Walking back to the tables along the side of the bar, Travis spots Dizzy, Kristin and Kristin’s friend Eric seated at one of them. Seating himself, he holds up his drink with pride, “Now that’s how you get customers.”

“How’s that?” Kristin asks.

“You give them more booze for less money.”

“Well, and if you make them alcoholics, then you have them for life,” Eric adds.

Travis smiles, “I like the way you think, Eric.” He holds out his hand, and Eric shakes it. “How ya’ been?”

“Mellow.”

“Good, good,” Travis replies.

“Good?”

“Good.”

“Great!”

“Woah now. There’s no need to get carried away there, pal.” Travis leans back on his stool and holds up his hand.

“Where’s everybody else?” Dizzy asks.

“What? My company not good enough for ya’?”

“No.” And she shakes her head vehemently.

“They went to go to the ah-tee-em.”

“The what?”

“The Assistant Tank Master.”

Eric laughs, and then says, “You mean, The Autonomous Truck Motor?”

“No,” Travis says and raising his voice, “I said, an Actual Testicle Massage.”

Dizzy hits Travis, “We can’t take you anywhere nice.”

Travis looks at her innocently, then turns back to Eric, “WWW, ATM, dot-com; These acronyms are getting out of hand,” Travis adds.

“People who use big words are dumb!” Kristin protests.

“You mean like magnanimous?”

“Or how about meticulous,” Eric chimes in.

Kristin rolls her eyes and looks away from the table, disinterested. The only way to get them to quit now would be to ignore them.

“I prefer it when people use big words wrong,” Dizzy says.

“Yeah.”

Putting on her teenybopper accent, Dizzy replies, “Oh I think that dress is just parsimonious.” Eric nods his head in agreement. “It makes me abominable when people do that—just absolutely fabricated.”

Dizzy laughs gleefully, but Kristin just looks at them all with an irritated look. “Where’s Ian?” she asks Travis, pretending to still be annoyed by his company.

“Where’s Ian? Where’s Ian?” Travis teases. “Why don’t you just marry him and then you won’t have to ask me all the time.”

Kristin grins and put her hand over her mouth. “I love him.”

Travis laughs. From time to time, Kristin looked remarkably like an eight-year-old. It always warmed Travis; reminded him of the fantastic crush that he’d first had on Kristin three long years before. He preferred to remember that instead of whatever reason that they had ceased their romantic involvement. He smiles as he watches Kristin tell Eric about Ian, because he realizes he no longer remembers the reason for the break up. He could only remember the good parts. The blue bandanna she’d been wearing the first time he saw her… asking her out… their first kiss. Turning to Daphne, he watches her looking about the room, and he stares at her eyes—always adorned with mascara. Only on a few occasions had Travis seen her without, and in those moments he was always slightly shocked. Her blue eyes released from outline made her appear almost naked to him—maybe proof that he didn’t really know her. Holding his hand up to his head, Travis casually tries to hide the fact that he is staring, but Daphne glances in his direction and their eyes meet. Once she had described to him in a note an inexplicable and irresistible attraction to his cheek. Always, Travis wondered if that attraction was still there when they glanced at each other. She wondered things, too, floating in glances. So much of their relationship was in those sparsely found moments of unknown intentions.

“Tell Eric about the Yours Game,” Kristin requests.

Turning from Dizzy, Travis smiles, “Oh yeah. Ya’ gotta’ know how to play Yours, if you’re gonna’ hang.” Looking around the bar, Travis sees a woman at the end of the counter and tells Eric, “Okay. You see that chick at the end of the bar?”

“Yeah… the one with the tank top?”

“Yeah. She’s your girlfriend now.”

Eric looks disappointed. “Oh.” Looking back to Travis, Eric nods. “I think I get it.” Then, after a moment, “That’s not a very fun game.”

“It’s more fun when you get someone else,” Travis reassures him.

“Okay.”

“And there are a couple of other rules.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Travis lists the rules, quid pro quo, on his fingers: “No one over twenty-eight or under eighteen. No lying—you can’t say someone’s good looking when they’re not. And if you get someone three times with the same person on different occasions, then they’re yours for life. Got it?”

Eric nods solemnly. “What about you guys?” he asks Kristin and Dizzy.

“Oh yeah. We play,” Dizzy says.

“But they have to be boys,” Kristin adds. “Like that one over there by the plants by the door.” Everyone looks. “That one’s Dizzy’s.”

Scrutinizing the character a second time, Dizzy turns back to the table. “I like him. He’s cute.”

“Yeah right. Nice try,” Travis replies.

Dizzy pouts and plays with her straw. “I don’t like you, Kristin.”

“Sorry,” Kristin giggles. “I think his rat tail’s sexy.”

“Man, you guys are crass,” Eric says, shaking his head. “I like it.”

“Welcome to hell, Eric,” Travis says, patting Eric’s shoulder. He holds up his pack of cigarettes. “Cigarette?”

“Well, when in hell…”

Travis holds up his lighter and lights it for Eric as Kristin begins laughing, seeing what’s coming. “Now you’re my bitch,” Travis says politely.

Eric looks to the Kristin, perplexed.

“It’s another game,” Travis explains.

“They have lots of games,” Kristin adds with mild disapproval.

Just then, Nick, Ian, and John amble up to the table. “Hey guys,” Travis says standing up from his seat. “What the hell took so long?”

Nick nods to Ian, “He ran into a girl.”

Kristin gives Ian a nasty look, but Ian just laughs, “I hate her, dude. She wouldn’t shut up.”

“We were gonna’ leave him there,” Nick explains.

Travis makes introductions.

“Nice to meet you guys,” Eric says.

“Yeah, that’s what you think,” Nick replies.

Ian shuffles over to Kristin by the wall, giving Daphne a kiss-hello on the cheek as he goes.
Travis explains to Nick and John, “Eric’s my bitch, and that gross girl over at the end of the bar is his new girlfriend.”

Stepping past Travis, Nick examines the girl and makes a pained expression. “I see Trav has been schooling you in some of our more important traditions.”

Eric nods. “Oh yeah.”

Ian makes his way to the bar, hollering to Nick and John, “I’ll just get us a pitcher.”

“Cool,” Nick replies. Turning back to Eric he says, “It could be worse. He could’ve given you the girl on the couch by the front door…” Travis tries to stop himself at the last moment, but looks in the girl’s direction. “… but that’s his girlfriend,” Nick finishes.

Eric laughs and Travis smiles tight-lipped at Nick.

Pointing in Travis’s face, John mocks, “Your girlfriend’s a mongoloid!”

Eric almost spits up his drink.

“Thanks, John,” Travis replies calmly. John nods curtly and takes out a cigarette, to which Travis holds his lighter. “Need a light?” Travis asks.

John becomes very angry and stares at Travis’s hand.

Leaning back to Eric, Travis explains, “That’s another thing you should know: don’t ever try to play the bitch game with John.”

“I don’t play that stupid game,” John says, still angry.

Eric looks on curiously, but nods.

“Just trust me,” Travis says as John lights his own cigarette. “You don’t wanna’ go there.”

Ian comes back from the bar with a pitcher of stout, and hands Nick and John glasses. “You guys just get the next round—wherever we go.”

“Thanks,” Nick replies. Looking at Travis’s pint of gin and tonic, he remarks, “You seem to be doing okay.”

Travis smiles gleefully. “I sure am.”

Eric leans in to the table conspiratorially. “Hey, Daphne. I didn’t want to say anything, but I think that guy over there’s been checking you out—just so you know.”

Travis and Nick smile as Dizzy looks exaggeratedly in the wrong direction. “Where?” she asks loudly. “I don’t see anyone.”

“Nice try, friend,” Nick says. “You’ll have to try harder than that.”

Eric shrugs innocently. “Okay. But I think he really digs you.”

“Dizzy’s used to that,” Travis says, patting her hand. “Everybody’s always looking at her.”

“I love you,” Dizzy replies through pursed lips, and kisses Travis’s cheek with a loud smack.

“You guys missed out,” Travis says to Dizzy and Kristin.

“What?” Kristin asks.

“We were playing southern dysfunctional family earlier this afternoon.”

“Awww,” Kristin replies disappointed. When Eric looks to her for an explanation, she says, “I’m always the soft-spoken, abused housewife, and Dizzy’s my loud-mouthed gossipy friend.”

Dizzy leans in. “Did ya’ll know that the reverend’s sleepin’ with Emma Lou?”

“Nuh uh!” Kristin hollers.

Tugging his pants up around his waist, Nick says, “Now you womenfolk quit your gabbin’ and get ta’ fetchin’ us some drinks.”

“Yeah. This ain’t no time for rumor-mongerin’,” Eric adds joining in.

“Hey there, Billy,” John says to Nick. “I think that there fella’ over there is lookin’ at Kristi.”

“Wha?” Nick asks, looking around furiously. “I’ll kick his ass.”

Reaching over behind Eric, Kristin grabs hold of Nick’s shirt and pulls him over. “Now, honey, don’t be fightin’ tonight,” she pleads. “You know I love you.”

“Don’t be tellin’ me what ta’ do, woman. I’ll give you whatfer fer lettin’ some jackass check you out.”

“I didn’t mean it, honey,” Kristin pleads.

“We’ll kick his ass, Billy,” Travis says.

“I got my 12 guage in the truck,” John adds.

Eric looks to Ian, who had just been looking on. “What about you?”

Ian holds up his hands in defense. “I’m from Jersey.”

“Damn yank,” Travis says.

In a Jersey accent, Ian retorts, “Whateva. We kicked your friggin’ ass once. We can do it again.”

“That’s it,” Travis says, standing. “Them’s fightin’ words.”

Dizzy motions for Ian to come stand by her. “Ya’ll don’t be pickin’ on my Vinnie. He’s in the army. He’s gonna’ make somethin’ of hisself.”

“He’s gay,” John says.

“I’ll tell all yur wives what you been doin’,” Dizzy threatens.

John and Travis stand down a little, but Kristin looks to Nick lovingly. “You ain’t been foolin’ around on me, Lovebiscuit.”

“You know it, Sugarbutt,” Nick says confidently.

“That ain’t what Sally Sue says.”

“That bitch is a liar and a Jezebel!”

Nick breaks character, turning to Eric, “You should also know that we hate flies, the French, anything sounding French…”

“Retards,” John adds.

“No, that’s just you,” Travis corrects him.

“I don’t wanna’ have this argument again.” John shakes his head and begins to count on his fingers as he speaks slowly, “The order of evolution goes mongoloids, dolphins, people and my dick.”

Travis and Nick exchange a confused glance.

“It was brought to me by omnipotent alien beings.”

Travis and Nick nod in complete understanding.

“Can we go soon?” Kristin asks. “I wanna’ show Eric all the cool spots.”

“Listen,” Travis adds. “Phil told me the staff at Mean Mike’s is having a private party tonight after the bar closes.”

“Cool!” Ian says.

Travis holds up his glass. “Here’s to drinking all night and waking up in somebody’s bed.”

Read the whole thread: Carousel Cowboy

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