Thursday, August 31, 2006

STEW FROM NORTH CAROLINA

I was planning to leave the bar after only one drink, so Archie could close early, but a couple came in, and almost immediately started providing entertainment.
A him and a dirty blondish her, both very khoosh, and not from liquor.


She asked Archie if he knew how to French braid, then asked me the same. And did anyone have any lipliner? She jerkily marched up and down the length of the bar, twitching. She wanted to sing karaoke. And recharge her cell phone. Why couldn't she recharge the phone, was there no recharger? Really? And how come neither of us knew how to French braid? For heavensakes!


With an air of authority she informed no-one in particular that California was like totally great! But it couldn't beat North Carolina! Where she came from! She was a stewardess! Her boy friend was from southern California! And didn't know how to French braid either! Everything she said was emphatic - even the questions.


Archie put another drink in front of her, and she asked him if she had already asked him about French braiding. Then she knocked her drink over and grabbed the karaoke catalogue.


Gonna sing now.


As she and her boyfriend sang, I ordered another whiskey and water. This was good. Better than TV.


Archie and I gave each other 'that' look, grinning, while those two slaughtered 'proud Mary' ("...Proud Mary um mumble mumble! Turning um eh ummm! Proud, um New Orleans, yeah? Keep it, keep uh...").


Proud Mary ain't never gonna 'roll' again after that rendition - even walking again might be outta the question.


Another customer wandered in after the song. The blonde asked him three separate times if he knew how to French braid.... he hurriedly finished his drink and left.


She went out to smoke - and we heard her hollering down the stairs at someone about lipliner. She came back in and asked me about French braiding, as if the question had only! just! then! popped into her head.


Then she had a brief, savage spat with her boyfriend over the song-catalogue.
She whopped him with it.
Hard.


They began another song. With the first strains of 'these boots are made for walking', I finished my drink and headed out into the fog. As the music grew faint behind me, I distinctly heard the words 'lipliner' over her boyfriend's dull mumbling of the lyrics.


Karaoke is a marvelous invention. Totally.


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