Those Purple Roadhouse Men
Published by Bertram Ellis at Smashwords
Copyright 2013 Bertram Ellis
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Pete's bar don't look like nuthin' during the day. Some tourists point at the purple building, shake their heads and snigger. But if they wus here on a Saturday night they'd find some real livin'. The ‘ole juke box goin’ full tilt. Rattlin’ the Bud’s horse mirror. Looks like they’re gonna drop a barrel or two. Y' can't hear nuthin’ for the beat so ‘y soon learn to lip read. We’re drinking an’ smoking up a storm. Y' can always tell when things is going great. One-eyed Willis gets a glassy look in his good eye so’s y’ don’t know which one’s lookin’ at y’. Bud gets the Viet Nam twitch. Bertha's looks real purdy. She's a right lump o-happy woman with a heart o-gold, even though her ‘ole man, no-good Art Wilson, up an left her with a passel o-kids to bring up. It's like we’re in the 'chanted cottage, a real 'ole movie I saw on the late-late show. We talk 'bout stuff like an’ see things clear like. Even a dumb ass like Archie. There's a name for y'. He dropped outta school ‘bout the third grade an’ no one missed him. He wus a bagger in the market for #ten years then ole man Jacobs saw sumthin in him an’ made him head bagger party that night I can tell y'. And there ain't nuthin wrong with Archie either. He's slipped a few cans chile beans in ma bag in his time. Anyways, the evenin's goin' great. We wus havin' a great time, when sumthin happens. It’s quiet man the mirror stopped rattlin’. The spell's broke. I look at Bertha and see the sweat drops hanging on the bristles of her moustache. Everyone's sittin' open-mouthed like they's struck dumb.