Bad Apple

I really enjoy being in Think-A-Holic Lounge on a sunny afternoon when hardly anyone's there and sunlight filters through the two front windows. I feel like less of a think-a-holic and more like a regular guy when I quietly knock down a few in the afternoon and then walk leisurely home.

This afternoon, however, there was this annoying hotshot in there (see pic) and I could tell right away he was from Big Apple City and that he was in publishing. I couldn't help overhearing his boisterous bragging as he talked the leg off Angus, the ghost bartender, and one of the barmaids who had nothing better to do than sit there and listen since she had no customers to wait on. The goofy smart aleck, who looked like Darth Vader turned inside out, kept pressing her knee and she let him do it because he had a reputation as this great big tipper in The Bad Apple.

I gladly listened to his lame lies and sorry come-ons as I nursed a watered-down drink, until I heard something that made me want to invite him outside and, of course, I'm not the type to start a fight. Especially not in a bar because there are way too many guys willing to do that at the drop of a hat.

Anyway, this publishing guy (and I'd bet a fin that he was an editor for a big publishing house) said, "Writers are like sheep. You simply lead them to the trough and then to the slaughterhouse. Zip zip. Hell, publishing is easier than shooting fish in a barrel."

I left the Lounge shortly thereafter in a big huff but not before the barmaid spilled a drink on that hideous creature and Angus stole ten Solar Dollars off him. I'll have to remember to give both of them great big tips next time.