The tiny old bartender told me her name was Eloise Gordon and “this bar is mine, honey.” I sipped on the beer she brought me and said “I was almost afraid to come in here with a name like ‘Bucket of Blood.’” She said, “Well, it used to belong to my husband before he passed on to the great blue yonder. I was going to change the name, but then I thought ‘what the hell. I would just turn it into a ladies’ bar. You’d be surprised how many church ladies here in the heartland are secret afternoon drinkers.” “Well, that’s certainly interesting, hmm. Do any of their church friends know this, Eloise? By the way my name is Dora and where I come from, ladies drink any time. You know I’m actually looking for a garage sale. I want to find some TV trays from this neck of the woods.”
Related posts:
Comments on this entry are closed.