Charley’s Pub

“It’s the damned Supreme Court,” J.D.  said. “What’s it matter who’s president, or not? The Supreme Court has all the power nowadays – they make the decisions that really matter to this country, with their rulings and all.”

 

“You can say that again,” agreed Bud. “They made it legal to kill babies first. Now they’ve made it so two men can tie the knot. Go figure.”

 

“Yeah, it’s over for this country,” said Tuck. “Now they’re talking about taking our flag away from us. Hell, then what? What’s next? You better bet there’s gonna be something else.”

 

J.D. was a stocky man with light brown hair he kept parted down the middle. Bud was bald headed and chubby, and so short he could not touch the floor with the tips of his shoes when seated. Tuck, on the stool next to Bud, was a slender guy with long grey hair that he kept tied up in a ponytail. 

 

Doc, a tall, lanky baby-boomer, who wore suspenders and kept his head shaved, leaned forward so that the others could see his face. “Yeah, this is just the beginning of things, boys. These damned illegal immigrants and terrorists are what worry me the most. I mean – look, they can come right across our borders. What’s to stop them? They can come right on over and do whatever the hell they want. They’re already running planes into our buildings, blowing folks up with bombs, raping our women, and killing innocent folks and stuff. Before long, they’re bound to kill more of our people. It’s just a matter of time, you know.”

 

“Like I’ve been saying all along,” J.D. declared. “It really all comes down to money. That’s all there is to it.”

 

“That’s right,” said Bud. “Just look at the new campaign finance laws. Billionaires and big businesses can buy this country now. What’ll they call the law, Citizens United? They can give money to whoever the hell they want, whoever will line their pockets, whoever will support their agendas. They’re the ones who run this country.”

 

“They buy your vote,” injected Tuck. “They’re all a bunch of greedy bastards; all they want is your vote. Promise people something, give them some stuff, and they’ll vote for you. That’s how they play the game. They don’t give a rat’s ass about what happens so long as they’re re-elected. Isn’t that what it all comes down to?”

 

“They don’t give a shit about anything,” cried Doc. “Damn immigration, damn gay marriage, damn flag.”

 

“Damn bi-partisanship and anything else to make this country better,” added J.D. “all they’re interested in are the perks and frills of their office. That’s all that matters to those codgers.”

 

“Don’t forget about the pork they promised to their hometown cronies.” said Bud.   “You know – the new road, the new military contract….”

 

“And the new bridge to nowhere,” added Doc, and then smiled. 

 

“They don’t care about the little man, period,” continued Bud. “All they are about is their own kind– Republicans and Democrats alike. They don’t care about the farmer who lives on Tobacco Road, the factory worker who lives on Furniture Street.”

 

“Now you’re talking,” said J.D. “You’re seeing something now.”

 

“Remember Nafta and Cafta?” declared Bud.

 

“Isn’t that what took our job overseas?” said Tuck.

 

“That’s right – that’s right.” Bud affirmed.

 

“Now they’re trying to send our jobs to Asia with this Trans-Pacific thing they’re talking about,” injected Doc.

 

“You can bet there are some pork promises behind all this too,” offered Tuck. “They ain’t doing it for nothing, you know. Big businesses are in there somewhere.”

 

“The hell with the little guy,” said Bud. “The little guy better look out for himself. Nobody else is going to. That’s for damned sure.”

 

“The little man’s screwed all the way around no matter what,” J.D. added. “That’s just the way it is.”

 

“Shit. It’s over for this country,” said Tuck, as he finished off his beer.

 

“Listen –listen,” Charley said, bending forward over the counter. “Money runs everything nowadays, boys. Money buys votes. Money buys roads, bridges, money even buys them sex on occasion. We pay for it all.” He grinned.

 

“Ain’t that the damned truth,” said Doc, then rubbed his head.

 

“Give me another beer, Charley,” said Tuck.

 

“Make that two,” said Bud.

 

“May as well bring J.D. and me a couple more of those Michelobs while you’re at it,” said Doc.

 

“Alright, alright,”Charley says. “These are on the house. How’s that sound?”

 

“We appreciate it, Charley,” said J.D.

 

“Sure you do,” said Charley, rolling his eyes, smiling.

 

Charley put the beers on the counter, then tossed the empty bottles into the trash can beneath the bar.

 

The men drank. Bud and Tuck said, “Thanks, Charley.”

 

“No problemo,” said Charley, smiling.

 

It was late now. The pub was empty except for the four men on the stools and Charley. Charley passed a damp rag across the edge of the counter top then looked out across the room. It was a small room. Several booths were fastened against the right-side wall. In the center of the wooden floor was an old Brunswick pool table. It had an old Budweiser-light dangling a few feet above it. A half dozen stools ran along the length of the bar. Several fluorescent lights hung from the ceiling. Affixed inside the front window was an old neon Budweiser sign, which gave cue to the First Street passersby. Charley had owned the pub for nearly twenty years. His granddaddy had passed it on to him soon after his daddy died Thanksgiving Day twenty years ago. It was the one thing Charley had ever wanted to own. In fact, it was the only thing he ever cared to own.

 

“Say, J.D., I heard you’ve made plans to marry that Flatrock girl?” asked Charley. “Anything to it?”

 

“Go ahead’n tell him, J.D.,” said Bud. “Go ahead.”

 

“Come clean,” said Tuck, then laughed.

 

“Ahh hell, ya’ll think ya’ll got all the sense, eh?” cried J.D., laughing.

 

“Well, ain’t that what you told your Uncle Mort?” said Doc, before taking a drink.

 

“Ah, shucks – c’mon with it, J.D.” said Charley.

 

J.D was quiet for awhile, then he took a drink. He cleared his throat, then said, “I’ve really been putting some thought into it, guys. I really have.”

 

“What’s to think about?” said Tuck. “You two been seeing each other for awhile now.”

 

“Time to tie the knot,”added Bud.

 

“How do you know when’s the time,” said J.D. “You’ve never known the time.” Then he laughed.

 

“That’s a good thing, ain’t it?” declared Bud, before taking a drink.

 

“Well – when is it?”said Doc. “When’s the date?”

 

“Hell – Lynn’s ready to do it next week,” J.D. said.  “She’s wanting to do it down at the magistrate’s office, said she didn’t care about all the planning and spending a bunch of money and all.”

 

“Maybe she’s on to something,” Tuck said and smiled.

 

“The hell,” said J.D.

 

“Why not?” said Doc. “Why not?”

 

“Hell – I thought about maybe showing up down there and doing the thing,” replied J.D., “but then I thought about how a gay couple might show up during the dad blame thing. Then what? This’ll be with us the rest of our lives. Hell, I can’t do that to Lynn. I can’t do that. That’s all there is to it. It’ll be with us, you know?”

 

“You can damned well say that again,” said Bud. “It’s what this country wanted. Now go figure.”

 

“Ain’t never thought about that one,” said Tuck. “Like I said, it’s over for this country.”

 

“Just remember the money, guys,” said Charley. “It draws the money. Folks line their pockets. Projects are built. Vacations are taken. Homes are bought. People become happy. It’s no longer about the morals, boys. That went out in the 50’s.”

  

“What about the Supreme Court?” asked J.D. “What’ll they get out of all of it?”

 

“Supreme, Supreme, eh?” declared Bud. “What about lifetime appointments, big salaries, prestige? What else is there?”

 

“Egos,” added Tuck. “Big egos!”

 

“Before long, polygamy will be made legal in this country,” said Doc, then he took a swallow from his bottle.

 

“You’re right,”agreed Charley, as he moved the damp rag across the counter top where water had pooled from the beer bottles. “It’s coming – there’s no doubt about it. There’s money in it, ain’t there?”

 

“Yeah – as long as China keeps lending to us” replied J.D. as he held his hand out, gesturing.

 

“There comes a point though,” Tuck said, before bringing the bottle to his lips.

 “When it all comes to a halt,” added Bud. “Then what?”

 

“Then we’ll have, well…” replied J.D., losing his thought.

 

“Glory days,” said Doc, rolling his eyes.

 

“Glory days,”repeated Charley, as he moved around the bar and switched the business sign to closed. He came back behind the bar and poured himself a cup of coffee, then looked out over the heads of his buddies towards the street. It was dark now, and there was no traffic. The bar was at the corner of First and Third Street. Without the motion of traffic, the street light shone constant upon the front window. At two in the morning, everything appeared bleak and motionless, dead.

 

“Glory days are behind us, boys,” said Bud, softly.

 

“Ain’t that the truth,” said Tuck as he swirled the remaining beer in his bottle round and round. Doc looked at J.D., then took a drink.

 

“Stagnant wages, inflation, unemployment – you name it,” said J.D., tapping the counter. “It’s here, boys.”

 

“Damned right – there’s more to come, too,” declared Doc.

 

“By the way – you boys hear about old Edgar Jackson?” asked Charley, holding the coffee cup near his mouth. He took a sip, paused, then said, “Well, he got laid off last month; said the lumber company didn’t need him right now; said people weren’t building any houses.”

 

“I wouldn’t doubt it,”said Tuck.

 

“Damned shame,” Doc said, shaking his head.

 

“Had to move back in with his mother last week,” continued Charley, then took another swallow of his coffee. “Said he couldn’t pay the rent anymore.”

 

“A lot of folks are having to move back in with their families,” Bud said softly.

 

It got quiet for awhile, save for the whir of the lone ceiling fan. Tuck pushed the hair tie upon his ponytail tightly. On the stool beside him, J.D. ran his index finger through the condensation that had formed on his bottle. Doc lit a cigarette, took a few puffs, then stubbed it out. Bud took a swallow from his beer, then rested his elbows atop the counter. All seemed to be getting worked up now, buzzed-up, and mellowed.

 

Charley looked at the yellow light spreading through the room. The room seemed old, worn, isolated from the outside world. Set apart, perhaps. Everything within seemed compressed, confined to the booths and bar and row of stools.

 

“Times are tough, boys,” Bud said, nodding his head.

 

“It’s time to buckle down,” said J.D. “Time to rethink where we’re going – that’s all there is to it.”

 

“Now – now,” said Charley. “I wouldn’t get too carried away. Things tend to come around somehow.”

 

“I don’t know about this time, though,” said Tuck. “Things are different now; times are different.”

 

“Yeah, it ain’t like it was when I grew up,” added Doc, as he rotated the bottom of his beer bottle atop the counter. “It’s a whole different breed of people nowadays.”

 

“Ain’t that the damned truth,” said Bud, then laughed. “Just look at them codgers in Washington. They’re every reason our country is in the fix that it is.”

 

Charley drank from his cup, then sat on the stool his granddaddy had made for him years ago. He looked at his buddies. Every Friday night they came here to be with him, to drink, to talk some. For the past twenty years, to be exact, they’ve come here to shoot the breeze and carry on with him. He knew their lives as well as he knew his own. He loved the brotherhood, the conversations. He loved sitting there with them and wondering how many other folks in the world could be doing the same thing they were this morning.

 

It got quiet again. Bud finished his beer and slid the bottle across the counter towards Charley. He moved the damp rag over the trail of water it had left, then passed it on to Tuck. He did the same. Then J.D. and Doc followed. This was their little ritual. Finally, Doc slid the rag over to Charley. He took it and passed it across the counter a few times, then looked out toward the yellow light fading throughout the room. He turned around and tossed the damp rag into the sink behind him. He ran some water over it and wrung it out good, then laid it over the sides of the sink. He dried his hands on his apron, then said, 

 

“You boys want to go down to the lake with me on the Fourth?”

 

“Why not,” said Bud. “I’m game.”

 

“Maybe have a cookout, fish a little, watch a little fireworks,” said Charley.

 

“Hey – did I tell you boys?” asked Tuck. “There’s talk – they call it chatter – that we could have a terrorist attack over the weekend.”

 

“Ah, c’mon,” said J.D., shaking his head.

 

“Hell – that’s the norm now,” said Doc. “Everybody wants to kill us.”

 

“You can say that again,”said Bud, as he lowered himself onto the wooden floor.

 

“Just remember, boys – it’s all about the money,” said Charley, then threw his head back and laughed.