🍺 Dusty’s Saloon 🍺
Mike Kraus
I can’t sleep. I’ve counted sheep. Did some reading. Popped a few pills. Still staring at a black ceiling. Not even tired. So, I throw on an old shirt and dirty jeans. Head down the street to Dusty’s Saloon to get a drink.
As you can imagine, it’s pretty dead on a Wednesday night. A couple of guys in yellowed country band t-shirts shooting pool and a lady in a cheap uniform that looks like her shift just ended or is about to begin. Classic rock is always on the radio. I take a stool at the end of the bar.
The TV’s on, but never with volume. Nothing but garbage sandwiched between ads. Pushing prescription drugs. Selling some redesigned car. Another couple of minutes of a snarky reality show. Please stop running that baby diaper ad repeatedly. It’s been rough lately. I order a whiskey and take in the scenery. Hopefully, the combination will make me drowsy.
Two girls whisper to each other as they walk into the bar. Probably about how disappointed they are with how empty it is in here. Or, how it’s such a dive. Both in their twenties. They are all dolled up, so you know they aren’t from around here. Probably came down from Chicago for work or a funeral or something. I’m surprised they take a table instead of looking for a better place (not that there is one in this town). I order another round. I take what’s in the well because I’m looking to get drunk; not flavor. “Dat’ll be two dolla,” the bartender says, “Ya need ten ifya wanna put it onna card.”
Guy’s new. Doesn’t know I’m a regular and good for it. “I’ll put it on da tab,” and show him a wad of cash in my wallet. He seems satisfied.
“Want some pretzels or somethin’?”
“Nah,” I drop the stir stick into the trash behind the bar, “Jus’ keep ’em comin.’ I’ll tell ya when I’m done fer da night.”
“No prob.” He went on some kind of rant about the game that night and all. Seems like an alright guy. Maybe I’ll get to know him if he decides to stick around.
The two city girls finally order drinks at the bar. Took them a while to figure out there isn’t any table service. They keep whispering and giggling. Probably laughing at me since I catch them looking in my direction a couple of times. I look like I just got out of bed because I did just get out of bed. A wreck for sure. I should just ignore them. But, I’m bored. When the bartender comes back with their drinks I say, “Hey, put ’em on my tab.” I don’t give them “the eyes” or anything. Just thought it’d be nice to talk with someone that isn’t from here. But, it just makes them giggle and whisper some more. After a couple of minutes, I write them off. Not even a “thank you” or anything. My attention turns to watching Demolition Man.
“Umm… Wouldja like ta sit with us?” asks the normal-looking girl. They have to be more bored with this place than I am. I came in with lower expectations. The other girl seems nervous and I can’t blame her. But, when you come to a place like this in this town, you don’t always get to choose your company.
It’s good though. The scared one is quiet, but seems nice. The average girl is a bit of a snob. Sometimes it can be difficult to tell if someone is a snob or just shy. I mean, you really don’t know until you interact with someone for a while. A shy person will talk, but will play coy until they’re comfortable with you. But, a snob will eventually curl their lip and judge your every action. Some are princesses and I can’t stand them. You know, they dress up in white pants, laugh like hyenas, and pretend to fart rainbows. We all know how much of a pill-popping lunatic brat they really are. But, these girls were alright. Even the possible snob. At least they didn’t stare blankly at their smartphones texting pointless messages the entire time.
“I knew ya two weren’t from here,” I say to the normal girl, “Look ‘round. Gettin’ dressed up ta go bar hoppin’ means puttin’ on yer cleanest t-shirt. That’s not an insult either. Just an observation.”
“Really?” she replies. There was a glance at my grubby shirt and a look of disgust at the other patrons when she realized I’m right.
“Really. I use ta work in a skyscraper fulla assholes. Designer clothes. Interior decorated apartments. Luxury cars. Convinced they’re important. Use ta gettin’ what they want, when they want, how they want. Not people in this town. They take what they can get ‘n ‘preciative ‘bout it too. Some have da courage ta leave n’ chase their dreams. Go ta Chicago, New York, or L.A. None of them really find it ‘n end up comin’ back. But, at least we tried.”
“Hmm… That’s depressin.’”
“It is what it is. So, what are ya in town fer? I know we’re no tourist destination, but I can point ya in the right direction if ya lookin’ fer somethin.’”
She doesn’t care. Says something about a wedding. So, we kind of just sit here at the table quietly. I could of just stayed at the bar and not talked. Fortunate Son by CCR is playing on the radio. If we’re not going to talk, we might as well have good music. I order us another round even though our glasses are still half full. Need something to do. “Have ya seen Da Great Gatsby?” Leonardo was won-der-ful. It’s my favorite movie.”
“Yeah, I’ve seen it.” It was a flash in the pan with the substance gutted out like a fish. There’s no examination or thought of the concept of the American Dream. Just a lame love triangle with indulgent special effects. And bad music.
“Wasn’t it great? I jus’ loved it. I woulda loved goin’ ta those parties.”
“So, ya like da movies?” trying to steer the conversation elsewhere so I don’t become offensive, “What’s some of yer other favorites?”
“I just think Baz Luhrmann’s great. All those pretty dresses ‘n beautiful homes. So romantic.” I just focus on my drink. Everyone wants to say their opinion, but they never want to hear others. After a bit, she finally stops talking about The Great Gatsby.
“I didn’t get yer names. I’m Luke.”
“I’m Jenny and this is Andrea.” I try to find a topic all of us can participate in. Nothing seems to work. I ask where they are from and work. I make up a fake problem just so I can ask for their advice. They seem underwhelmed with everything. Well, they are originally from nowheresville, Iowa, but now live in New York City working at a clothing store. I ask if they like their jobs. No, but the discount is decent.
Andrea, the scared one, actually starts to talk. She’s actually pretty funny and interesting once she’s had a couple of drinks. She has a good story about all these suburban teenage girls that come into their store. They come in as a group and scatter toward the merchandise they like. Then, one of them pukes on purpose. Just vomits in the middle of the shop. When Andrea or whoever is distracted getting the cleaning supplies, all the rest start shoplifting like crazy. Then, they’d all make a break for it. Now, if someone gets sick they have to just stand there watching everyone and wait for security. You can’t make this shit up. I order us another round.
“Why ya orderin’ us all these drinks?” Andrea is not asking a question so much as making an accusation. “What doya want in exchange fer these daiquiris?”
“Nothin’ at all,” I say, “Just ta hang out with ya until I get tired ‘n can go home ‘n get ta sleep, which will be pretty soon.” The bartender is already putting up the stools for the night.
“Nothin’? C’mon, two pretty girls walk inta a bar ‘n ya ‘spect nothin’ when ya buy ’em drinks?”
“Nope. How ya know I don’t have a girlfriend or wife at home or something’? Anyway, won’t ask fer yer number or anything.’”
“Why not?” Andrea says, raising her voice.
“Yer not mad ’cause I’m not tryin’ ta pick ya up now, are ya?” That makes me laugh. A real damned if you do; damned if you don’t moment. Andrea blushes and Jenny pretends she’s not interested in the conversation. She hears every word, but still pretends.
The new bartender makes last call and I pick up a round. Grab popcorn for the table to absorb the alcohol. Cash out. The table is covered with little napkins, stir sticks, and toothpicks. Sticky from spilled dried out beverages. The lights come up to full brightness so the bartender can sweep the floor. All of us squint our eyes. Probably because our eyes dilate, but maybe because we can see what each other really looks like now. Didn’t expect to stay until close. Maybe I should just stay up instead of going to bed tonight. Got to be at the worksite by seven.
I toss back the last of the whiskey and ask them if they know how to get back to their place. Say they do. Mention that they have a bunch of stuff to do for their college friend’s wedding this weekend: flowers, dresses, dinners, and all that nonsense. I put them in Joe’s taxi. I know Joe. Long story. But, he sits at Dusty’s Saloon every night since he can rely on their loyal customers.
Poor girls. Drove all the way here from NYC. Had to get a hotel, rent a car, bridesmaid gowns, gas, and probably a million other things. All on their part-time retail wages. So much for degrees. After thinking about it, I’m glad I bought them their drinks. It’s sad that no one ever comes here because they want to. The Visitor Center’s motto should be, “Welcome: we’re glad you’re obligated to be here!”
I head up 5th and turn down Williams Street. Drag my shoes down the unlit sidewalks. The only light faintly shines from the front porches of various homes. A few TVs flicker behind curtained windows. Leaves crinkle in the cool summer breeze. Sunrise will be in a few hours. Probably just wander around until then. Get some breakfast and head to work.
To read more, please visit: Intro: 🏡 History of Walnut House 🏡: https://readmedium.com/c01d241376bf 1) — 🚶 Ramblin’ Man 🚶♂️: https://readmedium.com/e7e0ea6355ff 2) — 👁Just Don’t See It 👁: https://readmedium.com/c93db0285d52 3) 🍸 Awakening 🍸: https://readmedium.com/b72e7dcbd17c 4) 🎸 Gazed In Wide Wonder 🎸: https://readmedium.com/626ce857b1cd 5) 💊 Tattered 💊: https://readmedium.com/a0422087f4e0 6) 🏭 Warehouse 🏭: https://readmedium.com/31bb79506dee 7) 🍹Little Taste of Grandpa’s Cough Syrup 🍹: https://readmedium.com/135499bc53d8 8) 🍳🥓☕ Breakfast With Anabelle ☕🥓🍳: https://readmedium.com/0839cce6bc47 9) 👾 What Lurks In the Basement 👾: https://readmedium.com/e8e7525f9bcc 10) 🌙 Night Time Is the Right Time 🌙: https://readmedium.com/6f6bbaef1e8e 11) 🖼 Refuge From An Indifferent World 🖼: https://readmedium.com/8ef888cb076c 12) ☠ Skull & Crossbones Memory ☠: https://readmedium.com/3f18f90ac784 13) 💚☕🚚 An Enchanting Evening At the Golden Ticket 🚚☕💚: https://readmedium.com/2f8284be509f 14) 🌭 Gotta Have Some Fun Before Ya Go 🌭: https://readmedium.com/2ca6412ca654 15) ✋ Handsy Hubert 🤚: https://readmedium.com/d7151e07870b 16) 🤵 Fake It ’Til Ya Make It 🤵: https://readmedium.com/f82ade21a44d 17) 🐴📦 Funny Little Box 📦🐴: https://readmedium.com/ea4b2fb0002d 18) 🍕 Tommy’s Pizza, Can I Help Ya? 🍕: https://readmedium.com/4ea3d996da9c 20) 💣 Does It Matter? 💣: https://readmedium.com/71218e31b858 21) 🥀 Hospice 🥀:https://readmedium.com/c7e330448393 22) 📢 ESTATE SALE! Today 10am-3pm 📢: https://readmedium.com/864c65a8c544
Mike Kraus was born on the industrial shoreline of Muskegon, Michigan. After earning his Fine Arts Degree from The School of the Art Institute of Chicago, he attended Grand Valley State University for his graduate degree. From there, he gained varied experiences from the Chicago Architecture Center, Art Institute of Chicago, Hauenstein Center For Presidential Studies, Lollypop Farm Humane Society, and the Lurie Children’s Foundation. And every place he worked, he had his sketchbook with him and found ways to be actively creative. In 2014, Kraus became a full-time artist by establishing Mike Kraus Art. Since then, he has sold thousands of paintings that are displayed in nearly every state and dozens of countries. Currently, Kraus lives in Rochester, New York with his beautiful wife and goofy dog.
For more information, please visit: Store: http://MikeKrausArt.etsy.com Reddit: https://www.reddit.com/user/BrightscapesArt/ Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/MikeKrausArt Pinterest: http://www.pinterest.com/MikeKraus/ Instagram: https://instagram.com/mikekrausart LinkedIn: www.linkedin.com/in/mkraus
