The Hammer was tied up outside watching the crackheads, junkies, pimps, whores and police mingling. From my corner table I scanned the pub interior. Everything was broken, from the waitress' hearts to the false ceiling. Everything was dirty, from the vomit splattered carpet to the screens of the televisions. Swarms of flies circled the table beside mine. I thought about all the shit bars whose doors opened onto streets of desperation I had got beered up in over the decades and decided this was the shit bar of all time. And it is located right here in church-battered Steepleton.
I had talked to several Steepleton street people on the way to the bar. Street people love a big, friendly dog without a cop leading it around. Seems most street people had a dog before their lives fell apart. A policeman eyed me and the Hammer curiously from his dented white cruiser, as if we must be lost.
I ordered a couple pints of Kokanee Gold once a waitress finally came over and asked me what I wanted. The only time I have waited longer for a beer was when I was in a bar that was not friendly to motorcyclists. I did not bother looking my waitress in the eyes. Not many men would have once they scanned her tattoo'd tits.
The beer was good, if not special. I ordered two more and a steak special after I had drank the first two pints. There were not six people in the bar and I still had to wait between pints. When my food came I ordered two more, good thing the beer was not special, and asked for my bill. The steak was first rate. They were talking about the Canucks on the huge tv. A steroid addict at the bar popped pimples on his arms. Puss flew onto the ratty carpet and disappeared.
Sonja and I bought our home where it is because it is close to what few bars there are in Steepleton. I prefer the atmosphere of a pub to a bar though and had never set foot in the Plague Bar and Grill until today. I think I will be back. I have a sick addiction to decay and sometimes I need a fix.
After we walked home I put the Hammer in the car and drove into the mountains. The Hammer chased a lone duck from a pond causing a hawk to drop from a tree and give chase to the duck himself. For a moment the hawk was tight on the duck's ass as an orange sauce. You would not think a duck could out-fly a hawk but he left the raptor behind before the chase became a long one.
The contrast between the woods and the dirty streets of Steepleton is stark. It is always good to get out of the city.