Jan. 8th, 2009

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this is not the prompt response I had started out to write.  somewhere along the way,  the plan I'd had for this little story changed.

[livejournal.com profile] prompt_a_day #409: Kicked Out


...and not a moment too soon," the keep remarked as finished ineffectually wiping the grime from a glass. "That feller, every year, this very same day he comes in and does the same thing: drink a bellyful and ends up near starting a riot. Any other time he's here, no problem, coupla drinks, pays prompt, tips well and Bob's your uncle.

"But THIS time he's gone too far."

"Hows that?" says I.

"This time, he's messed with the fella what wants to buy this bar," the keep replied, nodding to a smallish, sharp gent with a rapidly blackening eye.

"I see. So, buying a bar here isn't as easy as walking in and waving a credstik around?"

"No, in theory, it should be that easy. Only this gent is as like to close and raze the place as he is to keep it a bar. And the owner, Jack, that is, no Jack feels he has an obligation to keep us cripples employed. He won't sell to one as he feels won't keep the bar open."

And with that, he limped back down the bar, leaving me to stare vacantly into my drink and ponder my options. I'd left home to make a fortune, and was no closer than I had been a decade before. I still don't know WHY that fella keeps getting himself thrown out of this place.

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