It was my buddy Stan.
“How about meeting at The Pit this afternoon?”
“Uh Stan, all bars in the state are shut-down due to the Covid pandemic.”
“That’s not a problem.”
“The Pit has gone on-line.”
I suppose it makes sense.
Nobody goes to a bar just to drink. You can get drinks cheaper at a liquor store. You go to a bar to drink in the company of others. What you are paying for is atmosphere and no bar on earth has quite the atmosphere of our local tavern The Pit. Contrary to some, it is not the end of the world – though you can clearly see it from there.
Admittedly, our pub is an acquired, though oddly addictive taste, mostly due to the abuse doled out by Ike, The Pit’s formidable bartender.
I just did not know how it would translate into the digital realm.
So Stan texted me the link to the on-line page where I found something like a video conference with Ike holding court.
Surrounding him in little thought bubbles were the regulars: Ronnie, Phil, Lloyd, George, Danny, Stan and myself.
Here is how the session went:
Ronnie: Hey Ike, can I get a Spotted Cow?
Ike (glaring): We don’t serve Spotted Cow.
Ronnie: That’s okay, I have one in my fridge.
Ike: (exasperated): So why the question?
Ronnie: Just wanted to know if I could get one.
Ike: Am I your mother?
Ronnie then returns with a bottle of beer.
Ike: That’ll be six bucks.
Ike (slowly enunciating): Six.. bucks..
Ronnie: The sign above the bar says $2.00 beer.
Ike: That’s for draft. Craft beer is two bucks extra.
Ronnie: Then why six?
Ike: Two bucks for my tip.
Ike: My wisdom ain’t cheap. It’ll cost you a buck.
Ronnie: What’s the other dollar for?
Ike: My forbearance.
Ronnie: Ain’t worth it!
Ike: Then you’re out of here.
Poof! Ronnie’s bubble vanishes into the ether.
An instant later, Pop! Phil’s bubble also disappears.
Llyod: What happened to Phil?
Ike: He was complaining about Charlotte again. No one listens to his caterwauling when he’s in here, why should we now?
Then Wap! George’s bubble goes blank.
Ike explains: His dog walked into view. We all know pets ain’t allowed, especially his ugly mutt.
Fssssst… Danny’s image slowly deflates.
Stan: What did he do?
Ike: He violated the dress code.
Stan: The Pit‘s got a dress code?
Ike: Yeah, we got standards.
Stan: Since when?
Click! Darkness engulfs Stan.
Stan is ecstatic. “Wasn’t that great?”
“I can’t see how this is going to work, if he keeps 86’ing everybody.”
“Are you kidding? Ike is a rock-star. People love his abuse. It’s all over Facebook and Youtube. He has his own channel and is making a fortune. Critics are comparing him to Seinfeld’s soup Nazi.”
We really need to get back to normal.
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