OLWG #12 – Snug Harbour

OLWG #12



…There is the sound of wind and the ding of the bell hung on the top of the door. The door blows open, pulling into the room; a short rotund man, of indeterminate age, with an overcoat, scarf, gloves, and a fedora. His name is Simon. The sound of Grand Funk Railroad plays softly (yes softly) from the juke box.

 ACT I

INT, SNUG HARBOUR, LIGHTS ARE LOW

Establishing shot pans the camera around a small neighborhood bar. There are three tables in the center of the room and a dark hallway leading to the back. The implication is that the hallway leads to the toilets, maybe a payphone and access to the back car park. A row of four booths hugs the left wall and, a long bar stretches from the front to the back of the room along the wall opposite the booths. An emaciated old guy, with wildly curling grey hair, washes glasses behind the bar. His name is Pat. An old juke box, with neon lights sits in the nook between the end of the bar and the front wall. A faint glow comes through the frosted glass window to the street. SNUG HARBOUR LOUNGE can be read backwards through the window glass. A single customer sits alone at the bar. A dark man with his hair parted in the center. Half a bottle of whiskey, a smudged glass, and a full ashtray sit in front of him. His name is Richard. Simon is across the room near the door. He’s busy removing his winter attire and hanging his coat from a hook near the door.

 RICHARD:

So, you finally made it eh? I had about given up on you. What took so long?

(Spoken without looking up, terse, slightly annoyed, delivered while pouring another drink in the glass)

 SIMON:

Richard, sorry I’m late… traffic sucked, Genny and the kids didn’t want to leave. Then they wouldn’t shut up all the way back across town. “Naa, naa, naa… nah, nah; are we there yet? I gotta go to the bathroom! Make him stop touching me!” I wasn’t sure I’d get here at all.

(He looks at the bartender) Hey, Pat.

Simon makes his way across the open floor and sits near Richard, with one stool separating the two men:

 RICHARD:

So what was it again? Your nephew’s Bar Mitzvah, or something? Why the hell would you want to go to an event like that?

(Dragging his thumbnail across a match head and lighting another cigarette)

RICHARD AND SIMON FROM PAT’S PERSPECTIVE

 SIMON:

Hey! Come on Richard, it’s an important time in a young man’s life. I gotta admit though, I don’t understand these kids today. They’d rather disco dance than throw up and hallucinate.  Times have really changed from when we was kids.

SIMON  FROM RICHARD’S PERSPECTIVE

 SIMON:

Pat, can you get me a whiskey, neat?

(Pat slides an empty glass down the bar)

Camera pulls back to bird’s eye view looking down from the center of the room. The two friends are visible in the center of the shot and Pat is just inside the frame to the left, behind the bar. Dark wood and glass shelving, loaded with bottles, are visible behind Pat at the top of the screen.

Simon pours a shot of whiskey into his glass and drinks it down. He reaches into his suit coat and removes a package, wrapped in plain paper. He tosses it on the bar in front of Richard.

 RICHARD:

Is it all here?
(Nonchalantly, he picks up the package, hefting it in his hand before tearing the end open and, riffing a stack of blue and green banknotes)

Pat slowly reaches below the bar and pulls up a shotgun, he fires at Richard, who falls back, onto the floor, dead. Pat points his gun at Simon.

 PAT:

Just leave that package, Sime. You’d best scram before the coppers get here. Someone’s bound to have heard that shot and called it in.
(matter of fact)

Keeping his eyes on Pat, Simon reaches down and removes a silver handgun from Richard’s shoulder holster. He backs slowly away from the body and the bar, keeping the pistol trained on the old bartender. He collects his winter clothes and smiles, then he tucks the pistol in his waistband, at the back.

SAM:

So long Pat. I owe ya for this one.
(He turns, opens the door and goes back out into the snow)

 

FADE TO BLACK – FADE GRAND FUNK – QUE DRAMATIC MUSIC – ROLL CREDITS


Got all three of them in. It was written in 25 minutes, but I spent almost an hour after that to format, edit and correct. Oh well. Too much fun!

The prompts this week were:

  1. Are we there yet?
  2. These kids today
  3. Scram

 

 

OLWG #11 – Computer Dating and a Case of Mistaken Identity

OLWG #11



I saw him as soon as he walked into the coffee shop. He was almost twenty minutes late and I had been nursing a small mocha since I got there. I waved and he came over.

“Hi Brenda,” he said as he turned the chair around, threw his leg over the seat and plopped his butt unceremoniously down. “Can I call you Brenda?”

I took my time answering. I wanted to evaluate my latest computer date – see what they had hooked me up with this time. He was tall and lean, things I had asked for, probably 6’2” or thereabouts, maybe 185 pounds. He wore faded denim trousers, held up with a brown leather belt and a big silver buckle, scuffed cowboy boots and a dusty long sleeved white shirt. Typical attire for the ranch hands around here. I noticed he was smiling from beneath a brushy mustache, other than the cookie duster though he was clean shaven. He looked OK, my kind of guy.

“I wish you wouldn’t,” I answered.

“Oh? OK. What would you like me to call you?”

“Barbara would work. My name’s Barbara, not Brenda.”

“Well, if that don’t beat all. I’m supposed to be meeting Brenda here. You sure you’re not Brenda?”

“Are you Lucas?”

“No, ma’am, I’m Matt.”

The girl at the next table wiggled her fingers to get our attention, “’Scuse me, I’m Brenda.” She smiled at Matt as he stood and turned the chair back around.

He nodded his head at her, then nodded to me, “Nice to meet you Barbara, Sorry about the mistake.”

I blushed and ducked my eyes, “Nice to meet you too.” I mumbled and sipped my mocha, eavesdropping on Matt and Brenda.

“…that’s an impressive buckle… so shiny…”

“Rodeo… I have to polish it up regularly or it will tarnish… yes ma’am… always been a cowboy…”

“like cowboys… I work at the bank…”

They seemed to be hitting it off all right. I turned my attention back to the door. It was 10:30 and ‘Lucas’ was now a half hour late. I finished my mocha, and gathered my bag and jacket to leave. ‘Lucas’ had apparently stood me up. Just then the door opened and a short round man stepped in with the breeze. He was wearing a Hawaiian shirt and plaid shorts, his ensemble was completed with sandals and black socks. At first I thought he was that actor, the guy from that TV show and I wondered why he would be here. Then I realized the guy from the TV had more hair than this guy. He was looking around the shop as I brushed past him.

As the door closed behind me I heard him ask Brenda if she was Barbara.

I hurried down the walk and around the corner.


Written in response to OLWG #11 – the prompts this week were:

  • Wait for it!
  • Can I call you Brenda?
  • It will tarnish

I think I worked all three of them in although, the first one is merely inferred!

 

OLWG #10 – Warm Beer

 



I put my empty beer glass on the bar, with a sigh, and signaled for another. The guy sitting next to me continued to drone.

“Yeah, I didn’t believe it myself at first. I mean it’s kinda unbelievable till you think it through. Finally I googled it and there it was, big as life. I knew then it had to be true. I mean, shit, I read it on the internet so it must be real. Right?”

I shrugged my shoulders by way of an answer and looked at him. I was attempting to convey that I wanted to be left alone. I was attempting to do so without being rude, but my patience was wearing thin. The man simply would not shut up.

He finished his beer and Edie brought him another one without his even asking. She shuffled through the stack of bills that he had in front of him and took enough to keep the tab square. He handed her a couple more. She thanked him, grinned at me, and moved away. I scowled back at her.

He started up again. This time, apparently, on a different subject, “Well, my wife told me the other day that I wasn’t ‘kind’ enough. She said I needed to be a kinder, gentler, man. I’m not sure what that means.” He looked at me, waiting for an answer.

I can recognize an opportunity when one’s presented, so I took advantage of it, “Yeah, yeah I do. She means that you should be kinder to her. She means that you should stay at home more. You should sit on the couch with her and watch TV with her. I’ll bet she would love to share some of those ‘Housewife’ shows with you. She’d much rather you to be at home with her than have you spending your nights in some dive, bending the ears of strangers.” I raised my glass and took a long pull, and then I slowly turned my head, looked at him, trying to appear earnest.

He was staring at me with his eyes open wide; the whites were visible all the way around the irises. His mouth was open and he had a handful of peanuts frozen halfway to his mouth. Edie supplied salted peanuts in little bowls along the bar to keep us all thirsty.

“Ya think?” he asked. “You might be right ya know.” I could almost see the gears turning inside his head.

“Of course I’m right. Go on back home, go now. Tell her you love her. Stay out of dive bars that serve watered down whiskey and warm beer.”

“You’re right.” He said. “I do love her. I’m going home now.” He dropped the peanuts back in the little bowl, and leaving his beer, pushed his stool away from the bar. He left hurriedly out the back door to the parking lot but paused with the door open. “You should be a marriage counselor or something.” He hollered back over his shoulder.

Edie moved back down the bar towards me. She picked up the bills he had left, and his glass, tossed the bowl of peanuts, looked at me and raised her eyebrows, “Watered down whiskey, huh? Warm beer? What are you on about, anyway, Preacher?”

I laughed silently and Edie was grinning back. “Are you gonna be at choir practice tomorrow night, Edie?”

“I’ve dreamt about that before,” she said, “but you know I can’t sing a lick. You can count on me to be sleeping in a back pew on Sunday morning though. You know that.”

I nodded and finished my beer. “Another?” she asked.

“Nah, don’t think so. I’m going home now too. See you when you get off.”

She reached out and gave my hand a squeeze. “See ya later, honey.”

I nodded and smiled; then headed for the door.


Written in response to OLWG #10 – the prompts this week were:

  • unbelievable
  • Well, my wife told me…
  • I’ve dreamt that before

 

OLWG#9 – The Peregrination of Mr. Ringmaiden

Written in response to OLWG prompts for this week.



Mr. Ringmaiden continued walking – plodding really, just putting one foot in front of the other. He’d been walking, seemingly forever, and camping along the way when he needed sleep.  Foraging for food. His left hand gripped a walking stick, the other cupped his chin. He was tired and he’d had a really hard time shaving today; his chin was rough, stubbly.

Coming out of the shimmer on the road ahead he spotted a pilgrim heading his way. Mr. Ringmaiden adjusted his track to approach the stranger and making his best attempt at a smile he asked, “What’s the quickest way to Lincoln?”

The traveler, scratched his head, squinted his eyes and twisted his mouth to one side as he pondered the question. Then he pushed his hat back on his head and looked at Mr. Ringmaiden, studied him, “Are ya’ walkin’ er drivin’?” he asked.

“I’m walkin’,” said Ringmaiden.

“Well, it’d probably be quicker if you was drivin’.”


Too much fun!

OLWG #8 – Selective

This week’s prompts at OLWG are:

Bipolar, alliteration, and selective (use all three)

I thought about ignoring them and just writing a story but then I thought that, of all people who might want to play this game, I’m the one who should work the prompts. I tried, I really did but I could only work two of them in. I spotted an acrostic poem at “Urban Poetry” and was inspired. I haven’t tried one of these in a while.Gracias Linda J. Wolff for the nudge.



Because sometimes ALLITERATION, just a cheap S
I feel… so Literary trick that E
Prepared, so ready, and so Lets L
On top of the world Imposters, like E
Lately though Tn, C
All I feel is Emulate a T
Reluctant, unsure, and confused. Real writer, or I
  Author, such as V
  Those who abound E
  In the pages of  
  Often read blogs.  
  Not like mine.