The stale air hung low like fog clinging to the city’s harbor. The nicotine had stained the bar’s wallpaper, which had released from its glue in several places. Neon beer signs gave the dark room an eerie glow. Bright light and cheer both had abandoned the place a long time ago. The bar sat empty except for a sole customer and a bartender. The beaten-down man leaned on the bar and nursed his fourth beer — his pain was beginning to numb like the rest of him. God had big plans for him. But He was locked out of the man’s bitter soul. Self Pity guarded the gate and would allow no one in. It’s pathetic when a man judges his self-worth by a person who got a bonus for eliminating his job.
The bartender looked 50 but was older. Much older. He had made a deal centuries ago that allowed him to come back to the earth that he had loved so very much. He quietly poured a fifth beer and slid it across the peanut-shell covered counter. “Add it to your tab?”
“Um, sure.”
“What’s your story?”
“You don’t want to know.”
“Yeah, I do or I wouldn’t have asked. What’s your story?”
“It’s a bad story.”
The bartender looked at the man and wanted to slap the living crap out of him.
“You want a new story?”
The man looked up from his PBR and said, “Yeah. Who doesn’t”
The bartender walked over and thumped his nose.
“WHY THE HELL DID YOU DO THAT?” the man screamed in outrage.
“I want you to remember this. If you don’t like your story, make a new one.”
The man rubbed his nose and pulled his eyebrows down. “Look @#$#, I don’t want your self-help crap.”
The bartender thumped the man again on the nose.
The man started to come across the bar but fell down. The alcohol had taken over.
The bartender looked over the bar. “Get over yourself. You think you have it hard? Please. Imagine watching your child die from the Black Plague.” The bartender immediately wished he hadn’t said that.
“What the….? What are you talking about?”
“I meant cancer,” the bartender recovered. “Look, I don’t know what happened to you, but it must’ve sucked for you to be sitting in this dive drinking cheap beer. But dude, you can’t waste your life. Trust me, it’ll be over before you know it. You have eternity to feed worms.”
The now-drunk looked at the strange man. “I’m about to speak again. You aren’t going to flick my nose again?”
“If you don’t say something stupid.” the bartender looked at him disgusted.
“You my guardian angel? Like Clarence in It’s A Wonderful Life?”
The bartender looked at the man and shook his head. “I’m not Clarence and you sure ain’t George Bailey. But you could be.”
The man’s left eyebrow lifted. The last sentence had caught his attention.
“I could be?”
“You are a waste of air.” the bartender knew he was being harsh but he didn’t care. He had little tolerance for pity parties. He had survived the Crusades after all.
“But I got laid off. I’m worthless.”
The bartender flicked him again in the nose. “Only when you talk like a loser.” This man was slow to learn. “Change your story. Smile more. Be pleasant to others. Help others. Don’t sit on the sideline being a wuss. Life’s tough. It will knock you on your butt. But like the character Rocky Balboa said, ‘It’s not about hard you can hit. It’s how hard you can be hit and keep moving forward.”
“Who are you?” the man said, looking at the man in the glasses.
“You. I was once like you. Until I was flicked on the nose. Look, I dare you to be better than you are. I dare you to change others’ lives. Your life will change as a by-product. Change your story.”
He reached over to flick him on the nose again, but the man intercepted his hand and squeezed it. It was unnaturally cold.
“You dead?”
“In a manner of speaking. Now get out of here. I’m tired of your attitude.”
The man threw $40 on the counter and stood up the best he could. “You’re an #$#@#.”
“And you’re a slow learner. You aren’t stupid enough to try to drive home are you? I don’t want someone to die because of your bad choices.” the bartender shouted across the room.
“No, I’ll walk. I have some thinking to do.”
“You sure do.”
The man walked out of the bar and looked back at it to get its name. He was going to make sure he never came back there again.
But when he looked at the old city storefront, it was abandoned. The windows were boarded up and what remaining glass was broken. He shook his head, trying to clear the cob webs out of his head.
Just then, a cab drove up. “Need a lift?”
The man said sure and got into the cab. There, in the front seat, was the bartender. “Where to Mister?”
“A new story. I’m headed to a new life” the man said.
The cabbie turned on the meter and the cab headed east into the rising sun.
