Butch Cabernet

One evening Jim, Randy, and Susan were at the Sand Creek Tavern for the weekly Tuesday evening eight ball tournament. Randy had blown out in two games and was now in the process of reaching .25 on the BAC scale, as Jim had driven and Randy just didn’t care. Susan was hanging out by the tables watching the games and generally trying to stay away from Randy, and Jim was still in it to win it. Delusions of grandeur and all that.

The Sand Creek is an old dive bar on the north side of town. It is probably the only bar left in the county that still allows smoking, as its owner has a solid three pack a day habit. The bar is decidedly classic rock themed, with lots of posters, souvenirs and album covers from the owner’s youth in the late 60s and early 70s. The music can be modern, though, with scores of songs from the 80s being played.

The bar used to have a separate restaurant that was closed some years ago due to lack of effort and lack of interest. The kitchen is still open, though, and food is served on the bar side. About the same time the restaurant closed, the last cleaning of the property occurred. The layer of dust, dirt, and grease that every flat place in the establishment sports could be used to backfill a football stadium, and it’s amazing that the floor isn’t mud from spilled drinks hitting the dirt on it and soaking in. The electric and plumbing are barely functional, except for those systems needed to pour drinks and operate the stereo. Even the stripper pole has tarnished over the years from lack of use.

The Sand Creek has its long-standing clientele consisting mostly of the chain-smoking, beer-drinking drunks that live on the north side of the county. The Sand Creek does serve cocktails, but the locals prefer either the cheap beer or cheap shots. Rest assured, the owner does not stock any pink umbrellas to be placed in a Mai Tai or Daiquiri.

Copyright © 2019 J.J. West. Fiddlesticks! Tales From A Country Ghetto.
All Rights Reserved.