Jun 2014
"They're ******. All of them." Bill said. Pounding his right fist on the bar top before sloppily grabbing his tumbler of whiskey, spilling small but significant amounts onto the wooden top, and bringing it to his lips and gulping it down in one swallow.
"More." He shouted at the old man behind the bar who begrudgingly obliged and poured another four fingers width into the glass.
Bill pulled another fifty out of the pocket of his ***** white button-up and slid it onto the bar top where it rested momentarily in the droplets of whiskey before the bartender picked it up and placed it in the register next to the other four fifty dollar bills that the man had already spent. Though the drinks were only twenty a piece Bill made no move for change so the bartender ignored his growing belligerence and continued to pour.
"They can't all be ******."
The man sitting next to Bill piped in.
"Yes they can." Bill ranted back. "Every last ******* one of them. They speak in lies and loose words. Turn everything around so they're the victim. **** em. ******. All of em." Bill downed his drinks but before he could shout for another the bartender was already pouring a drink for him.
Bill laid down another fifty and drank some from the tumbler.
"Maybe it's the ones you meet." Bill's neighboring barmate pitched in again attempting to offer some wisdom.
"I've met them all. I've worked with them all. I've ****** and been ****** by them all. They all want an Apple but ignore the tree the Apple grew from. Always in some sort of silly competition." Bill answered back.
He finished off his drink but asked the bartender for a soda water instead of another whiskey. The bartender filled another tumbler up from the spray nozzle and put it in front of Bill and said no charge.
Bill laid a fifty on the counter. "From all the ******" he said.
He stood up barely able to stand until he balanced himself by using the stool and once he gathered himself he walked towards the back of the room where the restrooms were.
Bill stumbled in and rested himself at the sink taking a look at the reflection in the mirror. His wire-rimmed glasses were smudged and hung slanted on his lean dorky face and his short cropped hair was a mess. It had been a few days since he last shaved and the admiration of a five o'clock shadow had began to make an appearance on his cheeks and upper lip. The suit he had been wearing looked like it had been through a war itself, all tattered and torn and crusted with stains.
He removed his glasses and attempted to clean them in the sink before drying them off with the untucked tail of his shirt. He put them on. It wasn't much better. Next he straightened out his hair the best he could, struggling to keep his much despised cowlick in place.
He unzipped his pants and pulled his **** out and went about relieving himself in the sink all the while staring at himself in the mirror. When he was done he shook twice before putting it away and zipping back up.
Bill went to wash his hands but looked at the sink and realized it had been clogged and now laid full of his *****. He chuckled and shrugged his shoulders and walked out of the bathroom.
His soda water was still on the counter and he started to drink it as the bar's front door opened allowing fresh sunlight to assault it's way in. A tall model-beautiful girl stood in the doorway wearing a suit that showed as much skin as possible. She scanned the room until her eyes laid at the disheveled Bill at the bar.
"Mr Gates" she announced, "the car is ready if you'd like to leave sir."
Bill ordered a whiskey with soda and left another fifty on the bar. His barmate said he understood now why Bill had said they're all ****** after seeing how the woman at the door was dressed. He was laughing as if he had made some grand joke.
Bill stood up off of his stool, knocked back his whiskey and soda, straightened his glasses once more, and threw a strong right hook towards the other man, sending him flying off of his bar stool and on to the hardwood floor. He laid sprawled out, conscious but not moving.
Bill shook his fist. It had been a long time since he had hit anyway.
He walked over to the downed man and told him to never disrespect a woman again.
"But you called them all ******." He replied.
"No you little ignorant man, I was calling everyone in the world of business a *****. There is no loyalty and the only thing that matters is profit."
Bill helped the man back up off the floor and back onto his stool. He laid out a hundred dollar bill on the counter and told the bartender that whatever the man wanted to make sure he got it. Mr Gates straightened himself up again and walked towards the door and after looking around the dingy barroom one last time walked out into the sunlight where a limo was awaiting him.
"More." He shouted at the old man behind the bar who begrudgingly obliged and poured another four fingers width into the glass.
Bill pulled another fifty out of the pocket of his ***** white button-up and slid it onto the bar top where it rested momentarily in the droplets of whiskey before the bartender picked it up and placed it in the register next to the other four fifty dollar bills that the man had already spent. Though the drinks were only twenty a piece Bill made no move for change so the bartender ignored his growing belligerence and continued to pour.
"They can't all be ******."
The man sitting next to Bill piped in.
"Yes they can." Bill ranted back. "Every last ******* one of them. They speak in lies and loose words. Turn everything around so they're the victim. **** em. ******. All of em." Bill downed his drinks but before he could shout for another the bartender was already pouring a drink for him.
Bill laid down another fifty and drank some from the tumbler.
"Maybe it's the ones you meet." Bill's neighboring barmate pitched in again attempting to offer some wisdom.
"I've met them all. I've worked with them all. I've ****** and been ****** by them all. They all want an Apple but ignore the tree the Apple grew from. Always in some sort of silly competition." Bill answered back.
He finished off his drink but asked the bartender for a soda water instead of another whiskey. The bartender filled another tumbler up from the spray nozzle and put it in front of Bill and said no charge.
Bill laid a fifty on the counter. "From all the ******" he said.
He stood up barely able to stand until he balanced himself by using the stool and once he gathered himself he walked towards the back of the room where the restrooms were.
Bill stumbled in and rested himself at the sink taking a look at the reflection in the mirror. His wire-rimmed glasses were smudged and hung slanted on his lean dorky face and his short cropped hair was a mess. It had been a few days since he last shaved and the admiration of a five o'clock shadow had began to make an appearance on his cheeks and upper lip. The suit he had been wearing looked like it had been through a war itself, all tattered and torn and crusted with stains.
He removed his glasses and attempted to clean them in the sink before drying them off with the untucked tail of his shirt. He put them on. It wasn't much better. Next he straightened out his hair the best he could, struggling to keep his much despised cowlick in place.
He unzipped his pants and pulled his **** out and went about relieving himself in the sink all the while staring at himself in the mirror. When he was done he shook twice before putting it away and zipping back up.
Bill went to wash his hands but looked at the sink and realized it had been clogged and now laid full of his *****. He chuckled and shrugged his shoulders and walked out of the bathroom.
His soda water was still on the counter and he started to drink it as the bar's front door opened allowing fresh sunlight to assault it's way in. A tall model-beautiful girl stood in the doorway wearing a suit that showed as much skin as possible. She scanned the room until her eyes laid at the disheveled Bill at the bar.
"Mr Gates" she announced, "the car is ready if you'd like to leave sir."
Bill ordered a whiskey with soda and left another fifty on the bar. His barmate said he understood now why Bill had said they're all ****** after seeing how the woman at the door was dressed. He was laughing as if he had made some grand joke.
Bill stood up off of his stool, knocked back his whiskey and soda, straightened his glasses once more, and threw a strong right hook towards the other man, sending him flying off of his bar stool and on to the hardwood floor. He laid sprawled out, conscious but not moving.
Bill shook his fist. It had been a long time since he had hit anyway.
He walked over to the downed man and told him to never disrespect a woman again.
"But you called them all ******." He replied.
"No you little ignorant man, I was calling everyone in the world of business a *****. There is no loyalty and the only thing that matters is profit."
Bill helped the man back up off the floor and back onto his stool. He laid out a hundred dollar bill on the counter and told the bartender that whatever the man wanted to make sure he got it. Mr Gates straightened himself up again and walked towards the door and after looking around the dingy barroom one last time walked out into the sunlight where a limo was awaiting him.
