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Scott Delaney and Dave Bowman sat on high stools and drank mugs of beer at the bar in The Sanctuary which was near the main campus of the University of Pittsburgh. This was before The Sanctuary went out of business. It was Thursday afternoon. Scattered among the stools and tables were several customers drinking, laughing and talking. Some were eating. One read The Pittsburgh Press. Another did homework. Over the sound system came music from a radio station that specialized in rock from the sixties and seventies. That night was beer blast night at The Sanctuary which meant two skins at the door and two bits for each small plastic cup of beer there after. Scott was going to return later that night. He always enjoyed beer blast night. He was thirty five and had just found a new job. It wasn’t much of a job but it was a job. He started Monday.
“They’re two totally different crowds,” his friend Dave Bowman was saying. Anyone could see the friend lifted weights. “Here I never knew what to expect. You get a really mixed crowd here. I’d walk up to someone and tell him he had to leave.”
“‘Who the hell are you?’ he’d say.”
“I’m the bouncer.”
“‘Oh, yeah.’” Dave grabbed his crotch. “‘Well bounced this!’”
“Across the street,” Dave went on, “it’s kiddie land. Mommy and Daddy foot all the bills and gave them a new car for high school graduation. I doubt if half of them have ever even seen a fight let alone been in one. So, one night I’m off duty drinking at the bar. You should’ve been there. Four paddy wagons took a shit load of them out for underage drinking. All false IDs. No way for the doorman to tell. They have them printed up professionally.” Dave swiveled slowly on his stool away from the bar and looked around. He said, “Man, you don’t know how much I miss this place.”
The End
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Young Love (A Short Story) www.authspot.com/Short-Stories/Young-Love.634887
Filed under: Archives | Tagged: bouncer, drinking, friend, homework, laughing, main campus, talking, The Sanctuary, University of Pittsburgh, young love | 2 Comments »
Flash Fiction & The Female Orgasm
Good morning good morning good morning. The Old Soldier is in rare form and I’m ready to do some blogging. It’s suppose to get up into the 80s today in Pittsburgh with plenty of sunshine. It’s not 9:00 a.m. yet but I’m ready to take my long walk to the library and then through the park. Walking is excellent exercise, especially when you’re my age…
Writing about sex in flash fiction is tough because there are not enough words to drag the sex out. Talk about a quickie. Then if you add young love and marriage to the mix, a writer has to compress like hell for the story to actually tell a story. After all, sex is not performed in a vacuum. Life may be random but the very short story is not.
I think men and women, married or single, can identify with the young couple in Flash Fiction: Black Stockings.
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