Today is a Thursday afternoon with nothing particular for me to do.
So I sit here and blog. Of course, what else would I do?
Things are just a bit quiet lately and I have been spending quite a bit of time not doing too much at all. I finished editing another video that I handed over to my boss, I cleaned up some files and tidied some software. Good heavens, they have a huge tech mess back there. All I'm looking for is more awesome gadgets that someone might have left behind. Who knows, right? Always gotta keep an eye out.
So also because I am a lazy piece of lard that wants to submit a blog post but cannot be arsed to write more than a few sentences, here's Chapter 5 - Stefan goes into a bar to talk with a friend about his predicament. Cliche, yes, but shush.
Tootles.
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The bar was dark, hidden, and concealed from the streets. Just the way he liked it. Frequented by only the regulars who stumbled upon it and never seemed to leave, like they came and decided to make it their permanent home, he was comfortable in this crowd that enjoyed their brew more than the atmosphere. No one got drunk, no one got rowdy. If they did, the rest of the bar clientele was more than happy to beat him to a pulp together and then throw the poor man out by his bootstraps.
He walked in out of the blistering heat into the cool air-conditioned smokiness of the room. Nodding to a few familiar faces, he walked up to the bar and taps the wood with his fingers.
"The usual, please, Sir."
"Ah, Stefan." The bartender turned around holding a beer already poured, a perfect head of foam on top and the golden mead sparkling underneath in the dim overhead incandescent bulbs. Just looking at the beer at Stefan ready to drool.
"Pop it right over here, Eric."
The bartender deftly slid a coaster underneath the mug and set it down in front of Stefan as he sat himself on a stool. He picked up the beer and put it to his lips. Soft, delicate foam giving way to a lip puckering bitterness that nipped slightly at his throat and sank down into his gut. Nice and easy. Just the way he liked it.
"Always a pleasure to drink here. So, what's new?"
Eric slid a kitchen towel into a glass and started polishing. "Not much, really. Had a guy in here the other night trying to sell me some drugs."
"Oh? That's definitely exciting."
"Ah, well, once when I made my intentions clear that he needed to clear out of my bar, the entire bunch of drinkers in here kicked him to an inch of his life and then threw him out. Gotta love the gang in here. Hey! A round of drinks, on the house for everyone!" Eric yelled to no one in particular.
"Anyway, that's pretty much it. What's new on your end? Haven't seen you in here for a while."
"A lot of things happened, Eric. And I'm not sure what's real and what's not anymore?"
"Oh, Stef. Don't tell me you've started smoking some funny kind of shit in that crummy apartment of yours again."
"No, no," Stefan shook his head. "I haven't done anything in a long time. Heck, that's probably the problem right there." He chuckled a bit and had a gulp of his beer. "But right now, things have just gotten a little weird for me. And I want to have a quick word with you about it, if that's okay."
"Yeah, sure. No problem. Hey, Ray!" Eric yelled and a short man busy with a calculator and a pen and paper looked up. "Mind looking after the bar for me? I'm going for my lunch break."
Ray absent mindedly waved his hand at Eric and lumbered over to the till. In the mean time, Eric had untied his apron and thrown it down on the countertop. Pouring himself a beer, he beckoned with a nod of his head to a quiet corner where few were drinking. They both pulled up chairs and sat down. Eric satisfied himself with another long pull of his beer and then quietly set the mug down.
"So. What happened?"
And Stefan spilled it all. About the concussion. About Marty Rock. About the 5 million Euros that was sitting on his study desk at home and was now tucked away in plastic bags in the toilet tank. About how all this came about because an ex that apparently still had some feelings for him wanted him to disappear due to some information that he knew about her when they were dating. She wanted him to disappear that badly. But why?
Eric sat in deep thought. Stefan knew because Eric had tucked his tongue into one cheek, making it look as though he had a tumour growing out of his face. So he sat and waited. Eric always had something good to say. Even if Eric was to say that he did not have a clue what to do next, he would always say something good.
"Shit."
That all you have to come up with? thought Stefan.
"Dude, if I didn't know you better, I'm pretty sure you were lying about not smoking anything funny. Remember that time when I mixed a bit of meth with LSD? Yeah...your story sounds ten times worse, man. I mean, you might have just taken a really bad hit from the concussion and you're probably hallucinating everything since then. Heck, were you ON something when you hit your head?"
"No, I was not on anything. I've been clean for eons. Plus, if I was completely buzzed, then how come I've got loads more of this sitting in my apartment?"
Stefan pulled his trump card. Out of his pocket, he slid out a crisp 500 Euro note, folded in half across the table. Eric's eyes widened in surprise and his jaw dropped wide open. Stefan grinned at his friend's facial expression. Eric was a hard one to surprise and this look was worth millions in his books.
"Where did you get that?"
"I've got a lot more of where that came from. Do you still think I'm joking now?"
"But...but...but...its not possible! You hardly earn enough to pay for your beer here with your writing job - "
"Hey, I try and make an honest living, okay?"
"Yeah, yeah, I know. But honestly, you still owe me for the last 4 beers that you had last week. And your honest living wasn't covering it enough. I'd have to kick you out of this bar if you didn't cough up payment in the next week or two. But holy cow!" He went back to ogling the bank note.
"Yeah. Hey, Eric. Here's a few more, to, you know, cover for the costs I've incurred in the past. And also as a bit of a thank you present. For being a good friend and all." Stefan slowly slid an envelope with a few more banknotes in it across the table towards him. "And yeah, just sharing my good fortune with you. I hope it doesn't take too much explaining to keep this between the two of us, yes?"
Eric only nodded. He quickly snatched the envelope and tucked it into his back pocket with a sharp glance around the room. No one noticed the exchange. Everyone was still either nose deep in their beer or already unconscious on the table.
"What would you do then?"
"What?" Eric still looked as though he had been hit with a stun gun.
"What would you do if you were in my shoes?"
"Oh. Um...disappear, I suppose?"
"Really?"
"Well. Yeah. Um...let's see. Have you ever thought of anything you wanted to do or achieve but never got around to doing it? Like, because you never had time or the dough to do it?"
Stefan sat and pondered for a moment. There was never anything in particular that he had hoped to do. Maybe because he was never given the opportunity. Add to the fact that he was always complacently happy with the cards that Life and Fate had dealt him and it basically meant that he was a low maintenance kind of guy who never asked for much and never expected much from life either. He always imagined himself as the kind of guy who would end up dead in his apartment and not being found for days until the neighbours complained of the overwhelming stench.
"Hm. Good question. I'll definitely have to think about it, that's for sure."
"Yeah. I'll suggest heading home, cracking open your best bottle of vodka and finishing the bottle whilst writing a wishlist."
"Sounds good. But there's one problem, though."
"What's that?" asked Eric as he made his way back behind the bar.
"I don't have vodka at home."
"Hm." Eric hummed a little tune and snatched a bottle off the shelf and thumped it on the bar. "Take the Chopin. I think you'll enjoy it."
"That's a premium brand, Eric. I don't think I can take a gift like that off you."
"Nah, don't worry about it. With your five hundy, I'm pretty sure I can by at least 5 more bottles like it. Good evening, Sir, what's your poison?" Eric was back in the business, dealing with another customer.
Stefan smiled and wrapped the bottle in a paper bag as he headed out the door. "Thanks, man!" he called over his shoulder.
Eric gave him a wave whilst tossing shaker cups in the air, resulting in him missing one and it clashing spectacularly on the floor. Stefan closed the bar door behind him, silencing the curses that ensued from Eric's mouth.
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