by Sam Campbell
The bartender was hesitant to hand Bill another drink. Though, he was a regular, and rarely caused trouble, so Bill was served. In fact, for the past 12 years Bill had stopped by his favorite pub on his way home from work. This usually occurred about three times a week, four if he was having a rough one. The bartender had got to know him well over the years. It was mostly small talk since Bill rarely opened up to anyone.
The bartender wasn’t known for his politeness. If you asked for a drink, you got it. And if you wanted a different sports game on, you got it. He was however, buddies of the regulars. Most of them were there every weekend. But not Bill. And this confused the bartender. He usually didn’t look into it too much, but for some reason he decided to find out more about his most frequent customer.
“You’re in here a lot ya know Bill,” The bartender exclaimed.
“Yeah, well, you know, rough day at the office,” Bill stammered with a kind of novice smile.
“Now I don’t mean to be too forward, but why?”
Bill looked around and noticed a small crowd in the bar. He sipped his drink and let the scotch sift down his throat
“Why does it matter?” Bill replied with a smile.
“I’m just curious ya know? I mean it’s been, what, like 10 years? I feel like you spend more time here then you do at home. You show up get a beer here, a whiskey there, and take off.”
“And what’s with the piece of paper? You’ll stare at it for a good five minutes at a time. I’m pretty sure if I didn’t talk to you, you wouldn’t say a thing at all.”
It seemed as if Bill was being interrogated and he didn’t like it one bit.
“So a man can’t enjoy his happy hour? I don’t come here to be bothered you know,” Bill said with a bit of a tone.
The bartender sighed.
“I’m sorry Bill. You don’t deserve that. It’s just, I don’t know, you’ve been coming here for a while and I don’t know anything about you.”
“You’re not supposed to, you’re a bartender. Just get me a another refill.”
The bartender, who was kind of shocked, backed away and reached for the top shelf scotch Bill had been drinking. He had gotten down- turned back to Bill to pour it- but Bill was walking out of the bar. He threw his piece of paper in the trash. The bartender ran outside to stop Bill who was in his car.
“Hey c’mon, I’m sorry. With all the time you spend here I just want you to think about what you’re missing. What about your wife or your kids?” The bartender said with a very hard apologetic tone.
“She doesn’t mind, we’ve been married for twelve years.” Bill sniped back with a sharp tone.
Bill toted away in his car, leaving the bartender to step back and sigh again. The bartender slowly walked back to his bar. He had his head down, hands in his pockets, thinking about what had just occurred. It was only for a good cause, he meant no harm.
Later that night, as he was closing up he remembered the paper Bill had thrown away. Just then, curiosity ran through his veins. He had picked it out of the trash and uncrumpled it just to see what had been in Bill’s pocket all this time.
It was a picture. A picture of Bill holding a woman. This woman wasn’t his wife.
Kate believes this rock will help her. Kate believes this rock will protect her. Kate believes that this rock will lead her to great things. Kate believes that if she obeys this rock, this rock will thank her and treat her with the greatest of respect. Kate believes this rock possess powers no person can ever imagine.
Kate has seen this rock do great things! Kate wants everyone to fear this rock! Kate would kill for this rock! Kate knows what this rock can do to anyone! Kate knows this rock can do the unthinkable! Kate wants everyone to bow down before this rock! Bow down! Bow down, for if you don’t you will perish! Kate believes this rock wants you to be afraid! Fear the rock! Kate is going to be with this rock! Please obey the rock! Kate doesn’t want to perish!
Kate died today. No one knows where she went.
Sam Campbell, a student at Concordia University- St. Paul, is an English major and writing minor. He spends his free time writing and performing music. He hopes to be a college writing professor.