Written By Gael
July 26, 2020, 8:32 p.m.(9/22/1013 AR)
Weirdest place I've ever been to, the Murder.
I was sitting there, minding my own business as I do, and slowly through the din of conversations a discussion across the counter started getting a little too loud. Some mean-looking guy stood up and pointed at his own chest with the most mocking, hearty laugh made yet, and taunted some other guy with something along the lines of: "You think you could take me?" So this fellow, some stools away at most, jumps to his feet, calls him a "farkin' pillowfisted fool." And there they go, the slightest suggestion that the second man's fists weren't made of jaw-demolishing bricks kicks off a brutal fight. They grab at one another, drinks fly every which way, and they swing their free hands in looping undercuts. Each punch, I swear, landed with cracking ferocity.
It occurred to me at the time that perhaps I was meant to split them apart, but that's not how things work down here, I don't think.
Eventually, some angry woman smashed in and declared to the room an angry warning, and they split off. One, while pinching a nostril while blood shot out the other, apologized. I'd say which, but after the whole thing was over you couldn't recognize either of them. Shoulders were popped back into place, they shook hands, clapped each other's sides.
Drinks just don't taste the same after that much brutality. You appreciate them a little more, I think.
Some weird shit, huh? Don't laugh too hard now, custodian.
I was sitting there, minding my own business as I do, and slowly through the din of conversations a discussion across the counter started getting a little too loud. Some mean-looking guy stood up and pointed at his own chest with the most mocking, hearty laugh made yet, and taunted some other guy with something along the lines of: "You think you could take me?" So this fellow, some stools away at most, jumps to his feet, calls him a "farkin' pillowfisted fool." And there they go, the slightest suggestion that the second man's fists weren't made of jaw-demolishing bricks kicks off a brutal fight. They grab at one another, drinks fly every which way, and they swing their free hands in looping undercuts. Each punch, I swear, landed with cracking ferocity.
It occurred to me at the time that perhaps I was meant to split them apart, but that's not how things work down here, I don't think.
Eventually, some angry woman smashed in and declared to the room an angry warning, and they split off. One, while pinching a nostril while blood shot out the other, apologized. I'd say which, but after the whole thing was over you couldn't recognize either of them. Shoulders were popped back into place, they shook hands, clapped each other's sides.
Drinks just don't taste the same after that much brutality. You appreciate them a little more, I think.
Some weird shit, huh? Don't laugh too hard now, custodian.
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