Have you spotted any barflies lately, perched precariously on a bar stool, swirling the beer bottle as if the brew needed a little more mixing? Are barflies endangered species, or nearly extinct? Do they only exit in remote locales?
It's been years since I've seen one. I've never had a long conversation with one. Should you come across a barfly with some time to spare, would you tuck her into a nice spot under my Christmas tree? I promise to snatch and release, should you bag one for me.
A barfly could slide into my novel as a fly on the wall, looking at the darker moments in life without a dream of escape. With her in my mystery series, how could I go wrong? I'd treat her kindly. No enslavement here!
I could also use a slick liar who sometimes speaks the truth. Do you know one who's available? Is there room on your sleigh? My stories sure could use that slick liar to redirect the plot just in the knick of time. Please don't send anyone with a pyramid scheme, okay? I don't have the money to lose just yet, and I tend to believe that people are honest.
OH! How about an old soldier? Do you have one who would hang around for a while? The kind of guy who might keep a barfly company? One who uses lots of nearly obsolete adages? (The other night my hubby compared something to being "like tits on a boar hog." I whooped. He couldn't believe I'd never heard that old soldier's line. I want more!)
According to my rejections, I'll be needing more than just a barfly, a liar and a soldier to spiff up my series proposals. Could you summon up a great story teller to drop down my chimney? Somebody who swills a bit, then spins a tale that has everyone laughing until their sides hurt? Maybe that old soldier guy could be the narrator and keep the story running? What brand of beer should I stock up?
Whew! Thanks for listening to this letter-writing warm-up. It's Christmas and I need to send off my DEAR SANTA note before time runs out. Ah, the time of miracles. Maybe, with your help and all these salty characters hanging out at my house, I'll break into the big-time in 2008 - Okay, okay, I'll settle for 2009!
(Be sure to catch Clare2e and Travis Erwin's musical/poetic challenge from December 21st, which inspired me to ponder my Christmas wish list. Hope Santa brings you and your loved ones great joy!)
Write On!
Nan
Saturday, December 22, 2007
All I want for Christmas is an aging barfly
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5 comments:
I don't know what this says about me but I have had a few conversationa with a barfly or two and they are alive and well ehre in Texas.
Nearly every guy I work with fits the old soldier bill, and my father is the king of obsolete quips, but he doesn't drink beer only Canadian Hunter.
As an old bartender, I can attest that the really entertaining Barflies are like butterflies, lighting upon you when you least expect. The boring, weepy ones are always there like annoying skeeters when you're trying to close up.
My parents owned a bar (as well as a restaurant and catering hall), so I have some barflies in my memory that you can borrow. Also an accountant in a three-piece suit who was always waiting at the door for my parents to open up at 8 am, the young surfer dude who'd come in during the off-season, the married couples who'd drink and bicker every weekend, the doctors from the medical building next door, etc. I have some very colorful childhood memories.
Me!! Me!! Let me be the barfly. Please, Nan, please. I can see me now:
"Fishnet stockings with at least one crooked ladder running along the slit on the side of my too-tight skirt. Long hair pulled back behind one ear. Raccoon eyes and tobacco stained teeth smeared with lipstick.
A new bruise on my throat from when some guy grabbed me, couple of hours ago.
Take a load off, buy me a bourbon, maybe I'll tell you, maybe I won't.
A few bourbons down the road, I might say yes. We'd have to go to your place. The grabby guy's still bleeding on the linoleum in my place.
Or maybe he's done bleeding."
Thanks, Nan, I needed that!
Terrie
Round about this time of year I'm an eager model for the role. Can't match Terry's passion, however. I'd love to be a fly on the wall in the bar she walks into!
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