The Feet of God

111 - IT COULD’A BEEN WORSE

I admit, I had no idea what I was doing.  It hurt my head to even try to figure it out.  The most important thing was, in my consideration, you had to do what you had to do, even if you had no idea what the fuck it was.

It was getting close to Jar-Boy’s second shift, so I thought it might be a good time for me to turn in.  I was still adjusting to my new work schedule as a bar swamper.

I got off my stool and yawned.  “I’m tired.”

Sandi seemed to relate.

“Think I’m gonna hit the hay,” I told her.  “Jar-Boy knows where to find me when it’s time.”

As I turned to leave, Boo jumped off his usual spot on top of the jukebox and streaked out an open window.  Unexpectedly, the jukebox sprang to life and played “Unchained Melody.”

My shift swamping The Rusty Trumpet actually turned out to be pretty uneventful.  In fact, my next several shifts was pretty easy, without hardly any paranormal disturbances to speak of, except for the night I heard a voice call out my name.  Generally speaking, though, things was eerily quiet for a haunted bar.  Hell, even the black cat was beginning to tolerate me.

One night I found a twenty dollar bill lay’n on the floor.  Yessiree, Bob!  A Lucky $20.  Best thing I found since a box of Dots and what was left in a Popeye Pez dispenser.  I pocketed that Jackson and stuffed it in the safety of my right sock.  My finances had been severely stretched lately, so this money was a godsend, especially since payday was still a few days away.  I’d been surviving on a diet of stale pretzels with helpings of green olives, pearl onions and maraschino cherries at the bar.  Now I was gonna live it up.  The Golden Arch Room.  Chicken McNuggets and a hot apple pie, and large strawberry shake.  Or Diet Coke.  Fuck yeah!

So a little while later, while I was happily enjoying my meal at Mickey-D’s, disaster struck Punta Gordita.  There was a tremendous grease fire in the kitchen at The Rosy Lipped Batfish.  The entire restaurant was consumed in minutes.  All was lost.  The fire spread to other buildings in no time, leading to a considerable amount of destruction.

Maryanne’s Oddities burned to the ground.  I guess the worst was when Goldblatt’s exotic bird emporium went up in flames.  All around it smelled like burning feathers and fried chicken.  You could hear their pitiful death screams:  “Pretty boy!”...“Merry Christmas!”...“Hellooooooo!”

Fire trucks eventually arrived on the scene, and the fire was finally brought under control.  I guess there was a bright side to all this.  If that fire had hit the Ulele Gas pumps, Punta Gordita might’a been entirely blowed off the face of San Guano.

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