Part Three

So at this point - I don’t know if anybody’s reading this other than myself and Chico - so I might as well add this for me:

NEVER ALLOW RYAN, LIAM, OR A BAND IN THE BAR AGAIN AT THE SAME TIME

If you are reading this and you don’t know what I’m talking about - ignore what is above. If you are reading this and you are Chase - I’m sorry - I just don’t want to lure that thing here again - and my god - the place still smells of ferrets. At least you took all the instruments away.

Anyways - hi guys - I just got off shift and I thought I’d take up right where I left off. My adrenaline is up and there’s no chance I’ll sleep any time soon - so I might as well finish with Tuesday.

***

Tuesday, June 23, 2026 continued

 

7:30 PM: I hate it on the lower docks.

Especially during low tide.

The barnacles - at least I hope they're barnacles -

get a little snippy when the water’s low.

Today though - they were quiet.

Shaking even, like the scared little critters they

should be.

That was the first sign something was wrong.

Manny was down there by his boat.

He was looking at one of the supports.

“Hey,” I shouted over to him. “What are you doing?”

He turned quickly as if I’d frightened him.

“Uhhh…”

Next to him was some fleshy-fungusy-plant growth

sprouting up from the water and crawling up the

dock, scraping off all of the barnacles and

reaching up into the pipes of JOE’S.

“That wasn’t there this morning,” he said.

“Well,” I said, craning my neck to see the whole thing,

“now I know what's coming out of the toilets.

Think Randy can handle this?”

The thing was writhing like it was alive,

slow and pulsing like a snake constricting the pole.

“I…”

He coughed before finishing.

“I hope so. I don’t want to sleep down here next to

the danm thing. Plus - it smells.”

I huffed and laughed a little.

He still thinks I still think he sleeps down there.

Cute.

But he was right.

It did smell.

It was something I’ve smelled before,

but I couldn’t quite put my finger on it.

We went back up and I called Randy right away.

“Huh - that’s pretty weird,” he said through the phone.

“Well I’ll be down there in an hour to take a look.

Don’t go touchin’ the thing yet.”

Like I’d touch the thing.

On a side note - Chase did well in the bar.

No mind scrapers showed up and he and Chico

seemed to get along. They were yapping about

music when I came back.

“What was that about?” he asked when I came

around the bar.

“Don’t know. Something long and writhing down

there.”

He didn’t even question it.

Didn’t ask what it was.

Didn’t ask if it was dangerous.

All he said was, “That’s what she said.”

Chico laughed so hard he slapped the bar.

I made a note to never let them become friends.

 

8:12 PM: The strangest thing just happened.

Chico and I were arguing over free will.

Kind of strange for him considering

he’s not the most philosophical man I’d ever met.

He’s more of a get-drunk-on-Tuesday-at-noon

kind of guy. I mean - I guess that can be a whole

philosophy of its own, but that’s beside the point.

Anyways, we were all here.

I was counting liquor.

Chase swept the floor.

Then suddenly, out of nowhere, Chico said,

“Do you think we’re in control of ourselves?”

“What’s that Chico?” I asked from under the counter.

“Do you think we make our own choices?”

“I like to think so," I said. "I like to think that I’m the

pilot of my own life.”

I said it to convince myself as much as him.

“Well… do you… do you think you could be…

compelled to do something you don’t want to do?”

I thought about it for a moment.

I feel compelled every day.

The scary part - I don’t even know if I’m the one doing

the compelling anymore.

It’s just - there.

It’s always been there.

Anyways I couldn’t say all of this to Chico, so I joked,

“Chico - I’ve never once in my life seen you not do

something you want to do. No one is compelling you

but you.”

“Yeah… right,” he said. “You’re right.”

He looked weird.

Pale in the face.

Eyes darting back and forth.

He started to sweat.

He laid down some cash and got up.

“I think… I think I forgot something,” he said. “I think I

gotta go… go check.”

“Check what?” I asked.

He didn’t say anything and he rose, walking stiffly as

he exited the bar.

Chase thinks I overserved him.

I hope he’s right.

 

8:43 PM: Randy arrived.

I showed him down to where the writhing thing was.

He took a few looks at it.

Cut a sample with a scalpel and put it in a tube.

Why our repairman takes samples like a scientist,

I do not know.

But hey - I’m not the expert.

He told me it would be a few hours’ work,

but he could get it done.

I always appreciate Randy.

He somehow knows so much about everything.

 

9:28 PM: My least favorite part of

the night just passed.

He came right on time - just after the sun dipped.

He wore the same suit he always does.

Still dirty.

Probably never taken off.

He stood just outside the light.

He bent slightly forward at his back.

His mouth opened as if the muscles

in his jaw stopped working.

He pointed at me.

He pointed right at me.

I’m done calling the cops.

He’s always gone by the time they arrive.

Tonight - I tried something new.

I went to the front window and I pointed back.

He didn’t move.

Nothing changed - but for some reason,

it felt like his point got more intense.

I sware I could hear his thoughts.

“Come out,” he said. “Come past the light.

Come to me - my embrace.”

Well - there was no chance in hell I was doing any of

that, so instead, I tried to send back some thoughts

of my own.

“Your suit looks like crap and you need to work on

your posture. I’m gonna need you to go.”

We fell into a back-and-forth argument for a while.

Eventually he slinked off into the shadows.

Thank God it's over.

 

10:55 PM: We just got the only real business

we’ll probably have today. The shift at the shipyard

changed and all the daytime workers got off.

They made their way over in groups.

We filled up.

Manny flipped burgers.

Chase delivered the food.

I maintained the bar.

For the first time tonight,

it was like we were actually here.

Like we belonged.

Like we were real.

 

11:52 PM: The shipyard men have all gone.

Only have about two hours until close now.

I sent Chase home.

He’d done good today.

Told him to mind the tiger bunnies on his way out.

Hope he made it okay.

I think I like the guy.

And I think it’s easier with help.

I don’t have to bear it all alone.

I mean - I know Manny’s here.

And of course I have Chico too

But sometimes - I wonder - are they with me?

Or are they a part of it?

I don’t know if I want to know.

Well it was quieter now.

Manny's busy.

I think I hear him scraping something from a pan.

I don’t want to bother him.

I think I’m gonna turn on the TV.

I know I shouldn't - but I wondered if it will make me

feel less alone - like someone else is here again.

And anyways - if I calculate right - the countdown is

ending soon.

Is it wrong that I want to know?

Does that make me... bad?

If I don’t see it - who will?

 

12:02 AM: Well sure enough,

when I turned on the TV the man was there.

The tape was still on his mouth and he looked tired.

Looked like he'd been thrashing.

It felt like he looked me right in the eyes.

I watched the countdown go from 5 minutes to 4

minutes to 3 minutes all the way down to zero.

When it hit - a shadow appeared in the room.

Someone passed in front of the camera.

I couldn’t see who.

It looked like they untied the man then undressed.

They sat in his place.

The freed man stood.

He stretched.

Then turned on his savior and began to chain him up.

When he finished he checked the knots and left.

The new man was Chico.

He was tied to the chair.

There was tape over his mouth.

The dazed look in his eyes dispersed and he began

to struggle.

I had to turn it back off.

 

2:15 AM: My close was pretty easy.

No one came for the rest of the night.

I saw the pirate float off over the water around 1 AM.

Must be going for the night.

I do wonder where he goes.

I wonder if he also feels alone?

I think that’s why he looks longingly to the sea.

Is there someone out there he needs?

Anyways I just heard Manny splash down so I think

that’s my sign to turn off the lights.

Well - all but that one.

Also - I just realized - Randy never got back to us.

Weird.

I’ll check with Manny in the morning to see if that

thing is gone. I’d go check now - but I don't like it

down there in the dark. If not - Randy will be hearing

a mouthful from me. I’d really like to use the men’s

room tomorrow.

***

Well - that was Tuesday. A pretty normal day for me. I hope you all had fun reading about it - and I’m sorry for getting sappy there at the end. I think writing it all out helps. I think that’s why I keep my journal. It’s somewhere for it all to go. And it feels good to finally share it. I think I’ll keep going when I can. You know - gives me something to look forward to. For now - I hope you all have a good day!

Part Four

Coming Soon

Part Two

Part One

Part Three

So at this point - I don’t know if anybody’s reading this other than myself and Chico - so I might as well add this for me:

NEVER ALLOW RYAN, LIAM, OR A BAND IN THE BAR AGAIN AT THE SAME TIME

If you are reading this and you don’t know what I’m talking about - ignore what is above. If you are reading this and you are Chase - I’m sorry - I just don’t want to lure that thing here again - and my god - the place still smells of ferrets. At least you took all the instruments away.

Anyways - hi guys - I just got off shift and I thought I’d take up right where I left off. My adrenaline is up and there’s no chance I’ll sleep any time soon - so I might as well finish with Tuesday.

***

Tuesday, June 23, 2026 continued

 

7:30 PM: I hate it on the lower docks.

Especially during low tide.

The barnacles - at least I hope they're barnacles -

get a little snippy when the water’s low.

Today though - they were quiet.

Shaking even, like the scared little critters they

should be.

That was the first sign something was wrong.

Manny was down there by his boat.

He was looking at one of the supports.

“Hey,” I shouted over to him. “What are you doing?”

He turned quickly as if I’d frightened him.

“Uhhh…”

Next to him was some fleshy-fungusy-plant growth

sprouting up from the water and crawling up the

dock, scraping off all of the barnacles and

reaching up into the pipes of JOE’S.

“That wasn’t there this morning,” he said.

“Well,” I said, craning my neck to see the whole thing,

“now I know what's coming out of the toilets.

Think Randy can handle this?”

The thing was writhing like it was alive,

slow and pulsing like a snake constricting the pole.

“I…”

He coughed before finishing.

“I hope so. I don’t want to sleep down here next to

the danm thing. Plus - it smells.”

I huffed and laughed a little.

He still thinks I still think he sleeps down there.

Cute.

But he was right.

It did smell.

It was something I’ve smelled before,

but I couldn’t quite put my finger on it.

We went back up and I called Randy right away.

“Huh - that’s pretty weird,” he said through the phone.

“Well I’ll be down there in an hour to take a look.

Don’t go touchin’ the thing yet.”

Like I’d touch the thing.

On a side note - Chase did well in the bar.

No mind scrapers showed up and he and Chico

seemed to get along. They were yapping about

music when I came back.

“What was that about?” he asked when I came

around the bar.

“Don’t know. Something long and writhing down

there.”

He didn’t even question it.

Didn’t ask what it was.

Didn’t ask if it was dangerous.

All he said was, “That’s what she said.”

Chico laughed so hard he slapped the bar.

I made a note to never let them become friends.

 

8:12 PM: The strangest thing just happened.

Chico and I were arguing over free will.

Kind of strange for him considering

he’s not the most philosophical man I’d ever met.

He’s more of a get-drunk-on-Tuesday-at-noon

kind of guy. I mean - I guess that can be a whole

philosophy of its own, but that’s beside the point.

Anyways, we were all here.

I was counting liquor.

Chase swept the floor.

Then suddenly, out of nowhere, Chico said,

“Do you think we’re in control of ourselves?”

“What’s that Chico?” I asked from under the counter.

“Do you think we make our own choices?”

“I like to think so," I said. "I like to think that I’m the

pilot of my own life.”

I said it to convince myself as much as him.

“Well… do you… do you think you could be…

compelled to do something you don’t want to do?”

I thought about it for a moment.

I feel compelled every day.

The scary part - I don’t even know if I’m the one doing

the compelling anymore.

It’s just - there.

It’s always been there.

Anyways I couldn’t say all of this to Chico, so I joked,

“Chico - I’ve never once in my life seen you not do

something you want to do. No one is compelling you

but you.”

“Yeah… right,” he said. “You’re right.”

He looked weird.

Pale in the face.

Eyes darting back and forth.

He started to sweat.

He laid down some cash and got up.

“I think… I think I forgot something,” he said. “I think I

gotta go… go check.”

“Check what?” I asked.

He didn’t say anything and he rose, walking stiffly as

he exited the bar.

Chase thinks I overserved him.

I hope he’s right.

 

8:43 PM: Randy arrived.

I showed him down to where the writhing thing was.

He took a few looks at it.

Cut a sample with a scalpel and put it in a tube.

Why our repairman takes samples like a scientist,

I do not know.

But hey - I’m not the expert.

He told me it would be a few hours’ work,

but he could get it done.

I always appreciate Randy.

He somehow knows so much about everything.

 

9:28 PM: My least favorite part of

the night just passed.

He came right on time - just after the sun dipped.

He wore the same suit he always does.

Still dirty.

Probably never taken off.

He stood just outside the light.

He bent slightly forward at his back.

His mouth opened as if the muscles

in his jaw stopped working.

He pointed at me.

He pointed right at me.

I’m done calling the cops.

He’s always gone by the time they arrive.

Tonight - I tried something new.

I went to the front window and I pointed back.

He didn’t move.

Nothing changed - but for some reason,

it felt like his point got more intense.

I sware I could hear his thoughts.

“Come out,” he said. “Come past the light.

Come to me - my embrace.”

Well - there was no chance in hell I was doing any of

that, so instead, I tried to send back some thoughts

of my own.

“Your suit looks like crap and you need to work on

your posture. I’m gonna need you to go.”

We fell into a back-and-forth argument for a while.

Eventually he slinked off into the shadows.

Thank God it's over.

 

10:55 PM: We just got the only real business

we’ll probably have today. The shift at the shipyard

changed and all the daytime workers got off.

They made their way over in groups.

We filled up.

Manny flipped burgers.

Chase delivered the food.

I maintained the bar.

For the first time tonight,

it was like we were actually here.

Like we belonged.

Like we were real.

 

11:52 PM: The shipyard men have all gone.

Only have about two hours until close now.

I sent Chase home.

He’d done good today.

Told him to mind the tiger bunnies on his way out.

Hope he made it okay.

I think I like the guy.

And I think it’s easier with help.

I don’t have to bear it all alone.

I mean - I know Manny’s here.

And of course I have Chico too

But sometimes - I wonder - are they with me?

Or are they a part of it?

I don’t know if I want to know.

Well it was quieter now.

Manny's busy.

I think I hear him scraping something from a pan.

I don’t want to bother him.

I think I’m gonna turn on the TV.

I know I shouldn't - but I wondered if it will make me

feel less alone - like someone else is here again.

And anyways - if I calculate right - the countdown is

ending soon.

Is it wrong that I want to know?

Does that make me... bad?

If I don’t see it - who will?

 

12:02 AM: Well sure enough,

when I turned on the TV the man was there.

The tape was still on his mouth and he looked tired.

Looked like he'd been thrashing.

It felt like he looked me right in the eyes.

I watched the countdown go from 5 minutes to 4

minutes to 3 minutes all the way down to zero.

When it hit - a shadow appeared in the room.

Someone passed in front of the camera.

I couldn’t see who.

It looked like they untied the man then undressed.

They sat in his place.

The freed man stood.

He stretched.

Then turned on his savior and began to chain him up.

When he finished he checked the knots and left.

The new man was Chico.

He was tied to the chair.

There was tape over his mouth.

The dazed look in his eyes dispersed and he began

to struggle.

I had to turn it back off.

 

2:15 AM: My close was pretty easy.

No one came for the rest of the night.

I saw the pirate float off over the water around 1 AM.

Must be going for the night.

I do wonder where he goes.

I wonder if he also feels alone?

I think that’s why he looks longingly to the sea.

Is there someone out there he needs?

Anyways I just heard Manny splash down so I think

that’s my sign to turn off the lights.

Well - all but that one.

Also - I just realized - Randy never got back to us.

Weird.

I’ll check with Manny in the morning to see if that

thing is gone. I’d go check now - but I don't like it

down there in the dark. If not - Randy will be hearing

a mouthful from me. I’d really like to use the men’s

room tomorrow.

***

Well - that was Tuesday. A pretty normal day for me. I hope you all had fun reading about it - and I’m sorry for getting sappy there at the end. I think writing it all out helps. I think that’s why I keep my journal. It’s somewhere for it all to go. And it feels good to finally share it. I think I’ll keep going when I can. You know - gives me something to look forward to. For now - I hope you all have a good day!

Part Four

Coming Soon

Part Two

Part One

Part Two

I got off work a while ago. I’ve been at my desk going through my journals. I want to find the right story to tell you all first - but you know - it's kind of hard to pick something when everything's all - the seagull feet are back or the inside cloud clogged the air conditioner. Sometimes it's even shocking for me to see the line of reality I dance on.

I’ve decided instead of picking something out, I'm just going to tell you about last week. The work week starts on Tuesday, so I’ll start there. If I recall right - it was a fairly normal week. Well not normal - things haven't been normal for a long time - but it was an average week is what I’m trying to say. If I just start I think you'll get the idea. So here it is - a transcription of everything that was in my notebook from last Tuesday.

***

Tuesday, June 23, 2026

 

12:50 PM: Got to JOE’S early.

Manny was out front.

He was wet.

Said he went for a swim but I know better.

Still - I’ve learned not to question the pruniness of his

skin or the smell of seaweed on his mustache.

I did question his cough though.

He spewed something black.

Said he thinks he swallowed some harbor water.

Gross.

 

1:22 PM: Supplies for the day arrived.

Don’t know where they came from.

No truck dropped them off.

I mean - I know no truck ever drops them off,

but it’s still weird.

They're just there - out on the dock.

At least this time nothing moved inside the crate.

I helped Manny take it into the kitchen and as he was

prying it open and taking out fresh fruits and

expensive wines and exotic meats,

I asked him a question.

“Why do you prep all this stuff? You know hardly

anyone ever comes.”

“Prep - don't prep,” he said. “The crate comes either

way. I just want to eat good at night. Don't you?”

“Good? When it comes from you?”

Manny didn't like the joke.

I had another question.

“Where do they come from anyway?”

“What?”

“The crates - where do they come from?”

“Don't know.”

“What do you mean you don’t know?”

“I mean I don’t know.”

“You don't put in orders?”

“No.”

“Do you have a contact?”

“No.”

“Have you ever asked?”

“No.”

“Aren't you curious?”

“No.”

I don’t think much goes on in Manny’s head.

 

1:43 PM: I checked the faucet for ooze.

Nothing - but the smell was still there.

It wasn’t tricking me this time.

I took the stretched-out coat hanger I made last

night and shoved it up the faucet, then yanked it out.

I got the bastard.

Foot-long this one.

I threw him back in the harbor.

 

2:16 PM: I turned on the TVs behind the bar.

The only channel coming in shows a man.

He’s naked and tied to a chair.

He’s shaking - someone put tape over his mouth.

A little clock counts down in the corner.

I think he knows it.

I guess something's up with the cable box.

Chico won't be happy.

 

2:48 PM: Thought I saw something coming out

of the toilet in the men's room.

Maybe it was just the lack of sleep.

I don’t know anymore.

 

3:03 PM: Nope - definitely not the sleep.

There is definitely something in the toilets.

 

3:15 PM: New hire arrived.

Funny - I don't remember hiring him.

Said his name’s Chase. I told him it was nice to meet

him and he looked at me weird.

“We met before - you know - when you hired me?”

“I hired you?”

“Yes - you. We literally stood right here dude.”

I checked my notebook and sure enough - there’s the

entry.

--

9:43 PM: Hired Chase.

Seems a little weird,

but he wears metal T-shirts

and is in school for music.

Maybe hiring him will make me look tough?

Plus he didn’t react to Sideways Bob - so that’s

good.

--

How’d that get away from me?

That was only a few days ago.

Would I really forget hiring a whole person?

Am I really getting that bad?

Either way - he told me he's a musician.

Plays gigs at the hotel sometimes.

Needs some extra cash for a new guitar.

I told him to clean out the beer cooler.

Gave him the electric prod - you know, just in case -

but he looked confused.

I pushed him on anyways.

Gosh - how long will this one last?

 

3:35 PM: There’s a man outside.

He’s waiting to come in.

He knocked on the door but I ignored him.

Does he know we don’t open until four?

I don’t open early for anyone.

Anyways - I put an out of order sign on the men’s

room. I hope he isn’t waiting for that.

 

3:55 PM: I went out back before opening.

I wanted to look out the windows.

I like to watch the planes as they lift.

It’s my favorite way to pass the day.

Today the airport moved good.

It felt like multiple lifetimes squeezed into those few

minutes, each plane a whole life I imagined. At least -

I have to say imagined, even though it really felt like I

lived them.

First I went on an adventure in the Amazon,

then I climbed a mountain in Japan, and finally - I fell

in love in Mexico.

I hoped each one would come true.

Maybe not here - but somewhere else - in some other

life where I found the courage to go out there and

face the world.

There has to be somewhere else - right?

Is it possible that all versions of me are here - in the

bar? It can’t be - can it?

Anyways - the guy’s knocking again.

I guess it’s time to open the doors.

 

4:10 PM: The man rushed in as soon as I opened

the doors. Kind of rude, don’t you think?

He looked nervous when he sat - but excited too.

Asked for a shot.

Took it immediately then asked for another.

“Nerves?” I asked.

“Waiting for my date,” he said.

“Oh yeah? What's she look like?”

“Tall and brunette - and she’s got striking eyes and

beautiful curves and…”

The man started to wax poetic about her and I

listened, but a man can only hear of another’s muse

for so long before it gets… awkward.

Anyway - I wish him the best.

Sounds like he’s meeting Celia.

 

4:26 PM: Chase emerged from the walk-in.

He was defeated but alive.

He asked if we had another battery for the prod.

I showed him the supplies.

“So many legs,” he whispered under his breath.

“Go for the source,” I said.

It was the only advice I had.

He nodded solemnly.

I'm not sure he actually listened.

I just hope I don’t have to clean him up.

 

4:33 PM: Manny wanted me to try his soup.

I told him no - not after the last time.

Don’t need to go speaking another language for no

reason.

 

4:48 PM: Celia arrived.

Her date introduced himself.

They've been talking for a while.

I swear - at some point I saw her whisper something

in his ear, and I swear when she did, I saw her put

something in his drink. I swear they both smiled.

Something’s up.

 

5:15 PM: Chico sauntered in half-drunk.

Wanted me to put on the game.

I told him no. Something about a man chained to a

chair didn’t seem to match the lovebird mood

between Celia

and her date.

Chico begged to differ.

“A man tied up? That could be very erotic,” he said.

What is wrong with this man?

 

5:40 PM: Chase finished with the beer cooler.

Took out the whole colony.

I gotta say - I'm impressed.

Didn’t take this one for a natural - but hey - I can be

wrong sometimes.

“Good job,” I said.

“Thanks,” he said, then he joked, “you know - I’ve

played a video game or two… I just might know what

I’m doing a little bit.”

We both laughed.

When we turned to the bar the clothes on Celia’s date

looked a little bigger. His feet now barely touched the

ground. And I swear - I swear his voice was a little

higher pitched.

“Does that guy look a little smaller to you?” asked

Chase.

I told him to mind his own business.

 

5:55 PM: Chico ordered a beer - IPA.

I went to pour it and something thick and red flowed out.

I hope it isn’t blood again.

I had Chase change the keg

and all seems to be back in order.

 

6:20 PM: Spent some time looking out the

window.

The Pirate was out there on the lower dock.

He was looking longingly into the sea.

I feel like he's waiting for something - but he won't

say.

Who knows - maybe he just likes the shimmer of the

sun on the waves.

What did he call it that one time?

‘God made sublimity’?

 

6:34 PM: I came back out front.

Celia's date was gone.

His clothes were on the stool.

I swore I heard a little squeak.

Celia had something small and flailing tucked in her

cheek.

She swallowed.

“Thank you boys,” she said as she got up and left a

big tip - same as always.

Chico asked if we could turn the game on now that

they were gone. After a few minutes of arguing with

him I said fuck it.

Fine - he won.

Let him enjoy the man.

 

6:35 PM: You would think Chico would

appreciate my hospitality - I did what he asked - but

now he's begging

me to turn it off. I will - but in a few more minutes.

Personally - I don’t see the big deal.

 

7:15 PM: Chico still doesn’t look right.

I asked him if he was okay.

Nothing.

I asked if he wanted a burger.

He only nodded his head.

I put the ticket in but Manny came out and asked me

to watch the grill.

Considering this was the first ticket we had all day,

I hope whatever he’s doing is important.

I saw him go down by the dock.

He hasn’t come back yet.

It’s been a while now.

I’m starting to worry.

I don’t want to put JOE’S in the hands of the new guy,

but I think I gotta check on him.

***

I’m sorry - I know we’re in the middle of the day and I hate to do this - but it’s getting late and Chase we have the wedding band setting up early tomorrow - so I need to stop typing and get some sleep. When I have some more time - I’ll tell you about the rest of Tuesday, but for now - I hope you’re happy Chico.

Part One

Part Three:

Coming Soon

Part Two

I got off work a while ago. I’ve been at my desk going through my journals. I want to find the right story to tell you all first - but you know - it's kind of hard to pick something when everything's all - the seagull feet are back or the inside cloud clogged the air conditioner. Sometimes it's even shocking for me to see.

I’ve decided to just tell you about last week. The work week starts on Tuesday, so I’ll start there. If I recall right - it was a fairly normal week. Well not normal - things haven't been normal for a long time - but it was an average week is what I’m trying to say. If I just start I think you'll get the idea. So here it is - a transcription of everything that was in my notebook from last Tuesday.

***

Tuesday, June 23, 2026

 

12:50 PM: Got to JOE’S early.

Manny was out front.

He was wet.

Said he went for a swim but I know better.

Still - I’ve learned not to question the pruniness of his

skin or the smell of seaweed on his mustache.

I did question his cough though.

He spewed something black.

Said he thinks he swallowed some harbor water.

Gross.

 

1:22 PM: Supplies for the day arrived.

Don’t know where they came from.

No truck dropped them off.

I mean - I know no truck ever drops them off - but it’s

still weird.

They're just there - out on the dock.

At least this time nothing moved inside the crate.

I helped Manny take it into the kitchen and as he was

prying it open and taking out fresh fruits and

expensive wines and exotic meats,

I asked him a question.

“Why do you prep all this stuff? You know hardly

anyone ever comes.”

“Prep - don't prep,” he said. “The crate comes either

way. I just want to eat good at night. Don't you?”

“Good? When it comes from you?”

Manny didn't like the joke.

I had another question.

“Where do they come from anyway?”

“What?”

“The crates - where do they come from?”

“Don't know.”

“What do you mean you don’t know?”

“I mean I don’t know.”

“You don't put in orders?”

“No.”

“Do you have a contact?”

“No.”

“Have you ever asked?”

“No.”

“Aren't you curious?”

“No.”

I don’t think much goes on in Manny’s head.

 

1:43 PM: I checked the faucet for ooze.

Nothing - but the smell was still there.

It wasn’t tricking me this time.

I took the stretched-out coat hanger I made last

night and shoved it up the faucet, then yanked it out.

I got the bastard.

Foot-long this one.

I threw him back in the harbor.

 

2:16 PM: I turned on the TVs behind the bar.

The only channel coming in shows a man.

He’s naked and tied to a chair.

He’s shaking - someone put tape over his mouth.

A little clock counts down in the corner.

I think he knows it.

I guess something's up with the cable box.

Chico won't be happy.

 

2:48 PM: Thought I saw something coming out

of the toilet in the men's room.

Maybe it was just the lack of sleep.

I don’t know anymore.

 

3:03 PM: Nope - definitely not the sleep.

There is definitely something in the toilets.

 

3:15 PM: New hire arrived.

Funny - I don't remember hiring him.

Said his name’s Chase. I told him it was nice to meet

him and he looked at me weird.

“We met before - you know - when you hired me?”

“I hired you?”

“Yes - you. We literally stood right here dude.”

I checked my notebook and sure enough - there’s the

entry.

--

9:43 PM: *Hired Chase. Seems a little weird but

he wears metal T-shirts and is in school for music -

maybe hiring him will make me look tough?

Plus he didn’t react to Sideways Bob - so that’s

good.*

--

How’d that get away from me?

That was only a few days ago.

Would I really forget hiring a whole person?

Am I really getting that bad?

Either way - he told me he's a musician.

Plays gigs at the hotel sometimes.

Needs some extra cash for a new guitar.

I told him to clean out the beer cooler.

Gave him the electric prod - you know, just in case -

but he looked confused.

I pushed him on anyways.

Gosh - how long will this one last?

 

3:35 PM: There’s a man outside.

He’s waiting to come in.

He knocked on the door but I ignored him.

Does he know we don’t open until four?

I don’t open early for anyone.

Anyways - I put an out of order sign on the men’s

room. I hope he isn’t waiting for that.

 

3:55 PM: I went out back before opening.

I wanted to look out the windows.

I like to watch the planes as they lift.

It’s my favorite way to pass the day.

Today the airport moved good.

It felt like multiple lifetimes squeezed into those few

minutes, each plane a whole life I imagined. At least -

I have to say imagined, even though it really felt like I

lived them.

First I went on an adventure in the Amazon,

then I climbed a mountain in Japan, and finally - I fell

in love in Mexico.

I hoped each one would come true.

Maybe not here - but somewhere else - in some other

life where I found the courage to go out there and

face the world.

There has to be somewhere else - right?

Is it possible that all versions of me are here - in the

bar?

It can’t be - can it?

Anyways - the guy’s knocking again.

I guess it’s time to open the doors.

 

4:10 PM: I opened the doors.

The man waiting outside rushed in.

Kind of rude, don’t you think?

He looked nervous when he sat - but excited too.

Asked for a shot.

Took it immediately then asked for another.

“Nerves?” I asked.

“Waiting for my date,” he said.

“Oh yeah? What's she look like?”

“Tall and brunette - and she’s got striking eyes and

beautiful curves and…”

The man started to wax poetic about her and I

listened, but a man can only hear of another’s muse

for so long before it gets… awkward.

Anyway - I wish him the best.

Sounds like he’s meeting Celia.

 

4:26 PM: Chase emerged from the walk-in.

He was defeated but alive.

He asked if we had another battery for the prod.

I showed him the supplies.

“So many legs,” he whispered under his breath.

“Go for the source,” I said.

It was the only advice I had.

He nodded solemnly.

I'm not sure he actually listened.

I just hope I don’t have to clean him up.

 

4:33 PM: Manny wanted me to try his soup

again.

I told him no - not after the last time.

Don’t need to go speaking another language for no

reason.

 

4:48 PM: Celia arrived.

Her date introduced himself.

They've been talking for a while.

I swear - at some point I saw her whisper something

in his ear, and I swear when she did, I saw her put

something in his drink. I swear they both smiled.

Something’s up.

 

5:15 PM: Chico sauntered in half-drunk.

Wanted me to put on the game.

I told him no. Something about a man chained to a

chair didn’t seem to match the lovebird mood

between Celia

and her date.

Chico begged to differ.

“A man tied up? That could be very erotic,” he said.

What is wrong with this man?

 

5:40 PM: Chase finished with the beer cooler.

Took out the whole colony.

I gotta say - I'm impressed.

Didn’t take this one for a natural - but hey - I can be

wrong sometimes.

“Good job,” I said.

“Thanks,” he said, then he joked, “you know - I’ve

played a video game or two… I just might know what

I’m doing a little bit.”

We both laughed.

When we turned to the bar the clothes on Celia’s date

looked a little bigger. His feet now barely touched the

ground. And I swear - I swear his voice was a little

higher pitched.

“Does that guy look a little smaller to you?” asked

Chase.

I told him to mind his own business.

 

5:55 PM: Chico ordered a beer - IPA.

I went to pour it and something thick and red flowed out.

I hope it isn’t blood again.

I had Chase change the keg

and all seems to be back in order.

 

6:20 PM: Spent some time looking out the

window.

The Pirate was out there on the lower dock.

He was looking longingly into the sea.

I feel like he's waiting for something - but he won't

say.

Who knows - maybe he just likes the shimmer of the

sun on the waves.

What did he call it that one time?

‘God made sublimity’?

 

6:34 PM: I came back out front.

Celia's date was gone.

His clothes were on the stool.

I swore I heard a little squeak.

Celia had something small and flailing tucked in her

cheek.

She swallowed.

“Thank you boys,” she said as she got up and left a

big tip - same as always.

Chico asked if we could turn the game on now that

they were gone. After a few minutes of arguing with

him I said fuck it.

Fine - he won.

Let him enjoy the man.

 

6:35 PM: You would think Chico would

appreciate my hospitality - I did what he asked - but

now he's begging

me to turn it off. I will - but in a few more minutes.

Personally - I don’t see the big deal.

 

7:15 PM: Chico still doesn’t look right.

I asked him if he was okay.

Nothing.

I asked if he wanted a burger.

He only nodded his head.

I put the ticket in but Manny came out and asked me

to watch the grill.

Considering this was the first ticket we had all day,

I hope whatever he’s doing is important.

I saw him go down by the dock.

He hasn’t come back yet.

It’s been a while now.

I’m starting to worry.

I don’t want to put JOE’S in the hands of the new guy,

but I think I gotta check on him.

***

I’m sorry - I know we’re in the middle of the day and I hate to do this - but it’s getting late and Chase has that wedding band coming tomorrow - so I need to stop typing and get some sleep. When I have some more time - I’ll tell you about the rest of Tuesday, but for now - I hope you’re happy Chico.

Part One

I work at a bar that sits on a dock spilling out into the harbor. It's a strange place for a bar, you know? You could drive past us a hundred times and never notice us. We’re so mundane - so brown - so bland - I bet we barely even pass for a bar. To be honest - I wouldn’t be surprised if people mistook us for part of the shipyard. Out here, it’s only us, them, and the hotel up the street, so there’s not much of a reason to come by unless you got one.

Out front - there’s a park splitting us off from the rest of town. Honestly - out here we’re nothing but an urban afterthought. The park itself - it’s filled with oaks and a dog yard and a small playground, but you know - now that I've come to think of it - I’ve never seen any kids in the park. No dogs or runners. Just those damn tiger bunnies all the time.

There’s a sign out front too. It's supposed to say ‘JOE’S’, but I doubt it’s legible anymore - and I never learned who Joe was anyways. If you ever walked in, you’d find the place dressed in a nautical theme; fishing nets and boat wheels on the walls and a bar top made of old ship wood - the owner makes sure I mention it. But just past the bar is the special thing that everybody misses out on by not coming in - the view. The back of JOE’S has huge windows that look out across the water to the airport. There’s always planes taking off - others landing. In a way - it’s like the whole world’s tangible in that view. Who knows? - maybe one day I’ll tell you the whole, I-woke-up-on-the-tarmac story, but first - who am I? You know - the person writing this.

Well - let’s just say I'm the bar man. If you ever sat down and ordered a drink - you got it from me. My name’s Dillon and I’ve worked here for as long as I remember. Wasn’t hard to get the job. Got it as soon as I moved here. The only thing I remember from the interview was the owner being a technophobe. Told me the place ran the old way - paper tickets and a cash register that looked more like a typewriter. I didn’t mind though - the pay was fine and he said I eat for free.

It took time to settle in. At first - the cook scared me. Tall. Muscles. A little mustache and sailor tattoos - but over the years, I’ve learned that that’s just Manny - though lately I am starting to suspect that he really does come from The Sea. He lives on a boat out back, but at night when closing down, I swear I hear him dive into the water and he does not come back up.

Oh and since I have to deal with the whole - robots-take-over-the-world paranoia with my boss - we don’t have any internet, and a signal is hard to catch by the harbor - so I don’t spend too much time scrolling. That’s okay - I spend most of my days reading - or cleaning - or dealing with the ooze that leaks from the faucet - or wrangling one of the more - how will I say it? - lively meat deliveries. Oh and lately there’s that light in the closet that won’t turn off. I swear it's getting brighter. But if I’m not dealing with any of those things, I’m out back - looking through those giant windows. There’s always something to see. Truth is - I can't always tell you if it's real - but honestly - I've stopped asking anyways.

That’s actually why I’m here writing this. A while back - Chico - one of my regulars - said I always told the best stories. I told him that they weren’t stories - they were just my life - but that didn’t matter. He said I should start to share them anyway. Well me being me who doesn't like doing anything for no good reason, I responded with, “yeah right Chico - I’ll put it all up when the kraken comes out of the sea.”

Well - I hate to say it - but today after the ice machine was fixed and the repairman who replaced Randy left, I was here all alone at the end of the bar. I fell into one of those time slips. You know? - the kind where your mind fixes on something and the day just gets away from you. My gaze trained on the water as the sun got low on the horizon. That's when I saw it - a giant tentacle reached out into the fading light and plucked a helicopter from the sky. I instantly broke from my haze. How many hours had I lost? I didn’t know - I forgot to check the clock when I came through. Three? - four hours?

Well anyways I flipped the news on. Wanted to see if anyone was talking about what I’d just seen, but when I did - the anchors only argued over the details of last night's game. To be fair - it was a pathetic showing - and to be fair - weird things like this happen all the time. If you come into JOE’S you’re bound to see something strange, but I'll make you a martini so damn good that you're bound to forget it.

So here I am - locked into writing this. At least I have my notebooks. I've always got one by my side. Manny calls them my bibles. Sometimes he even calls me little priest. I try to write down as much as I can. If I don't - even I get lost, each day a blur of lines that all look the same. And sometimes? - I swear my days are longer than a day. I don't know how to explain it, but it's like my life is being stretched out like taffy.

What I do know is that I’ve been working here a long time. I don't know how long exactly - but I know it's been a while. I don’t know how old I am anymore or how many notebooks I've gone through. I don’t even know where I came from before all of this. Sometimes I wonder if there ever was a before. For some reason it all feels like an after.

Well anyways - I guess the best way for you to understand is for me to show you - so when I find some time between polishing glassware and checking to see if the impossibly circular pit in the basement has gotten any bigger - I'll tell you about one of my days, but for now - that pirate is back and I think he needs help tying his boots - you know - because of the hook hands - so I gotta go - but Chico - you son-of-a-bitch - I hope you enjoy this, because now I've got the task of figuring out what the hell I'm going to write.

Part One

I work at a bar. The place sits on a dock that spills out into the harbor. It's a strange place for a bar, you know? Out here, it’s only us, the shipyard, and the hotel up the street, so there’s not much of a reason to come by unless you got one.

You could drive past us a hundred times and never notice us. We’re so mundane - so brown - so bland - I bet we barely even pass for a bar. To be honest - I wouldn’t be surprised if people mistook us for part of the shipyard.

Just out front there’s a park that splits us off from the rest of town. Honestly - it feels we’re nothing but an urban afterthought. The park itself - it’s filled with oaks and a dog yard and a small playground, but you know - now that I've come to think of it - I’ve never seen any kids in the park. No dogs or runners. Just those damn tiger bunnies all the time.

There’s a sign out front too. It's supposed to say ‘JOE’S’, but I doubt it’s legible anymore - and I never learned who Joe was anyways. If you ever walked in, you’d find the place dressed in a nautical theme; fishing nets and boat wheels on the walls and a bar top made of old ship wood - the owner makes sure I mention it.

But just past the bar is the special thing that everybody misses out on by not coming in - the view. The back of JOE’S has huge windows that look out across the water to the airport. There’s always planes taking off - others landing. In a way - it’s like the whole world’s tangible in that view. Who knows? - maybe one day I’ll tell you the whole, I-woke-up-on-the-tarmac story, but first - who am I? You know - the person writing this.

Well - let’s just say I'm the bar man. If you ever sat down and ordered a drink - you got it from me. My name’s Dillon and I’ve worked here for as long as I remember. Wasn’t hard to get the job. Got it as soon as I moved here. The only thing I remember from the interview was the owner being a technophobe. Told me the place ran the old way - paper tickets and a cash register that looked more like a typewriter. I didn’t mind though - the pay was fine and he said I eat for free.

It took time to settle in. At first - the cook scared me. Tall. Muscles. A little mustache and sailor tattoos - but over the years, I’ve learned that that’s just Manny - though lately I am starting to suspect that he really does come from The Sea. He lives on a boat out back, but at night when closing down, I swear I hear him dive into the water and he does not come back up.

Oh and since I have to deal with the whole - robots-take-over-the-world paranoia with my boss - we don’t have any internet, and a signal is hard to catch by the harbor - so I don’t spend too much time scrolling. That’s okay - I spend most of my days reading - or cleaning - or dealing with the ooze that leaks from the faucet - or wrangling one of the more - how will I say it? - lively meat deliveries. Oh and lately, there’s that light in the closet that won’t turn off. I swear it's getting brighter. But if I’m not dealing with any of those things, I’m out back - looking through those giant windows. There’s always something to see. Truth is - I can't always tell you if it's real - but honestly - I've stopped asking anyways.

That’s actually why I’m here writing this. A while back - Chico - one of my regulars - said I always told the best stories. I told him that they weren’t stories - they were just my life - but that didn’t matter. He said I should start to share them anyway. Well me being me who doesn't like doing anything for no good reason, I responded with, “yeah right Chico - I’ll put it all up when the kraken comes out of the sea.”

Well - I hate to say it - but today after the ice machine was fixed and the repairman who replaced Randy left, I was here all alone at the end of the bar. I fell into one of those time slips. You know? - the kind where your mind fixes on something and the day just gets away from you. My gaze trained on the water as the sun got low on the horizon. That's when I saw it - a giant tentacle reached out into the fading light and plucked a helicopter from the sky. I instantly broke from my haze. How many hours had I lost? I didn’t know - I forgot to check the clock when I came through. Three? - four hours?

Well anyways I flipped the news on. Wanted to see if anyone was talking about what I’d just seen, but when I did - the anchors only argued over the details of last night's game. To be fair - it was a pathetic showing - and to be fair - weird things like this happen all the time. If you come into JOE’S you’re bound to see something strange, but I'll make you a martini so damn good that you're bound to forget it. So here I am - locked into writing this.

At least I have my notebooks. I've always got one by my side. Manny calls them my bibles. Sometimes he even calls me little priest. I try to write down as much as I can. If I don't - even I get lost, each day a blur of lines that all look the same. And sometimes? - I swear my days are longer than a day. I don't know how to explain it, but it's like my life is being stretched out like taffy.

What I do know is that I’ve been working here a long time. I don't know how long exactly - but I know it's been a while. I don’t know how old I am anymore or how many notebooks I've gone through. I don’t even know where I came from before all of this. Sometimes I wonder if there ever was a before. For some reason it all feels like an after.

Well anyways - I guess the best way for you to understand is for me to show you - so when I find some time between polishing glassware and checking to see if the impossibly circular pit in the basement has gotten any bigger - I'll tell you about one of my days, but for now - that pirate is back and I think he needs help tying his boots - you know - because of the hook hands - so I gotta go - but Chico - you son-of-a-bitch - I hope you enjoy this, because now I've got the task of figuring out what the hell this story even is.

Part Two

Part Three

Coming Soon

Part One

I work at a bar that sits on a dock spilling out into the harbor. It's a strange place for a bar, you know? You could drive past us a hundred times and never notice us. We’re so mundane - so brown - so bland - I bet we barely even pass for a bar. To be honest - I wouldn’t be surprised if people mistook us for part of the shipyard. Out here, it’s only us, them, and the hotel up the street, so there’s not much of a reason to come by unless you got one.

Out front - there’s a park splitting us off from the rest of town. Honestly - out here we’re nothing but an urban afterthought. The park itself - it’s filled with oaks and a dog yard and a small playground, but you know - now that I've come to think of it - I’ve never seen any kids in the park. No dogs or runners. Just those damn tiger bunnies all the time.

There’s a sign out front too. It's supposed to say ‘JOE’S’, but I doubt it’s legible anymore - and I never learned who Joe was anyways. If you ever walked in, you’d find the place dressed in a nautical theme; fishing nets and boat wheels on the walls and a bar top made of old ship wood - the owner makes sure I mention it. But just past the bar is the special thing that everybody misses out on by not coming in - the view. The back of JOE’S has huge windows that look out across the water to the airport. There’s always planes taking off - others landing. In a way - it’s like the whole world’s tangible in that view. Who knows? - maybe one day I’ll tell you the whole, I-woke-up-on-the-tarmac story, but first - who am I? You know - the person writing this.

Well - let’s just say I'm the bar man. If you ever sat down and ordered a drink - you got it from me. My name’s Dillon and I’ve worked here for as long as I remember. Wasn’t hard to get the job. Got it as soon as I moved here. The only thing I remember from the interview was the owner being a technophobe. Told me the place ran the old way - paper tickets and a cash register that looked more like a typewriter. I didn’t mind though - the pay was fine and he said I eat for free.

It took time to settle in. At first - the cook scared me. Tall. Muscles. A little mustache and sailor tattoos - but over the years, I’ve learned that that’s just Manny - though lately I am starting to suspect that he really does come from The Sea. He lives on a boat out back, but at night when closing down, I swear I hear him dive into the water and he does not come back up.

Oh and since I have to deal with the whole - robots-take-over-the-world paranoia with my boss - we don’t have any internet, and a signal is hard to catch by the harbor - so I don’t spend too much time scrolling. That’s okay - I spend most of my days reading - or cleaning - or dealing with the ooze that leaks from the faucet - or wrangling one of the more - how will I say it? - lively meat deliveries. Oh and lately there’s that light in the closet that won’t turn off. I swear it's getting brighter. But if I’m not dealing with any of those things, I’m out back - looking through those giant windows. There’s always something to see. Truth is - I can't always tell you if it's real - but honestly - I've stopped asking anyways.

That’s actually why I’m here writing this. A while back - Chico - one of my regulars - said I always told the best stories. I told him that they weren’t stories - they were just my life - but that didn’t matter. He said I should start to share them anyway. Well me being me who doesn't like doing anything for no good reason, I responded with, “yeah right Chico - I’ll put it all up when the kraken comes out of the sea.”

Well - I hate to say it - but today after the ice machine was fixed and the repairman who replaced Randy left, I was here all alone at the end of the bar. I fell into one of those time slips. You know? - the kind where your mind fixes on something and the day just gets away from you. My gaze trained on the water as the sun got low on the horizon. That's when I saw it - a giant tentacle reached out into the fading light and plucked a helicopter from the sky. I instantly broke from my haze. How many hours had I lost? I didn’t know - I forgot to check the clock when I came through. Three? - four hours?

Well anyways I flipped the news on. Wanted to see if anyone was talking about what I’d just seen, but when I did - the anchors only argued over the details of last night's game. To be fair - it was a pathetic showing - and to be fair - weird things like this happen all the time. If you come into JOE’S you’re bound to see something strange, but I'll make you a martini so damn good that you're bound to forget it.

So here I am - locked into writing this. At least I have my notebooks. I've always got one by my side. Manny calls them my bibles. Sometimes he even calls me little priest. I try to write down as much as I can. If I don't - even I get lost, each day a blur of lines that all look the same. And sometimes? - I swear my days are longer than a day. I don't know how to explain it, but it's like my life is being stretched out like taffy.

What I do know is that I’ve been working here a long time. I don't know how long exactly - but I know it's been a while. I don’t know how old I am anymore or how many notebooks I've gone through. I don’t even know where I came from before all of this. Sometimes I wonder if there ever was a before. For some reason it all feels like an after.

Well anyways - I guess the best way for you to understand is for me to show you - so when I find some time between polishing glassware and checking to see if the impossibly circular pit in the basement has gotten any bigger - I'll tell you about one of my days, but for now - that pirate is back and I think he needs help tying his boots - you know - because of the hook hands - so I gotta go - but Chico - you son-of-a-bitch - I hope you enjoy this, because now I've got the task of figuring out what the hell I'm going to write.

Part One

I work at a bar that sits on a dock spilling out into the harbor. It's a strange place for a bar, you know? You could drive past us a hundred times and never notice us. We’re so mundane - so brown - so bland - I bet we barely even pass for a bar. To be honest - I wouldn’t be surprised if people mistook us for part of the shipyard. Out here, it’s only us, them, and the hotel up the street, so there’s not much of a reason to come by unless you got one.

Out front - there’s a park splitting us off from the rest of town. Honestly - out here we’re nothing but an urban afterthought. The park itself - it’s filled with oaks and a dog yard and a small playground, but you know - now that I've come to think of it - I’ve never seen any kids in the park. No dogs or runners. Just those damn tiger bunnies all the time.

There’s a sign out front too. It's supposed to say ‘JOE’S’, but I doubt it’s legible anymore - and I never learned who Joe was anyways. If you ever walked in, you’d find the place dressed in a nautical theme; fishing nets and boat wheels on the walls and a bar top made of old ship wood - the owner makes sure I mention it. But just past the bar is the special thing that everybody misses out on by not coming in - the view. The back of JOE’S has huge windows that look out across the water to the airport. There’s always planes taking off - others landing. In a way - it’s like the whole world’s tangible in that view. Who knows? - maybe one day I’ll tell you the whole, I-woke-up-on-the-tarmac story, but first - who am I? You know - the person writing this.

Well - let’s just say I'm the bar man. If you ever sat down and ordered a drink - you got it from me. My name’s Dillon and I’ve worked here for as long as I remember. Wasn’t hard to get the job. Got it as soon as I moved here. The only thing I remember from the interview was the owner being a technophobe. Told me the place ran the old way - paper tickets and a cash register that looked more like a typewriter. I didn’t mind though - the pay was fine and he said I eat for free.

It took time to settle in. At first - the cook scared me. Tall. Muscles. A little mustache and sailor tattoos - but over the years, I’ve learned that that’s just Manny - though lately I am starting to suspect that he really does come from The Sea. He lives on a boat out back, but at night when closing down, I swear I hear him dive into the water and he does not come back up.

Oh and since I have to deal with the whole - robots-take-over-the-world paranoia with my boss - we don’t have any internet, and a signal is hard to catch by the harbor - so I don’t spend too much time scrolling. That’s okay - I spend most of my days reading - or cleaning - or dealing with the ooze that leaks from the faucet - or wrangling one of the more - how will I say it? - lively meat deliveries. Oh and lately there’s that light in the closet that won’t turn off. I swear it's getting brighter. But if I’m not dealing with any of those things, I’m out back - looking through those giant windows. There’s always something to see. Truth is - I can't always tell you if it's real - but honestly - I've stopped asking anyways.

That’s actually why I’m here writing this. A while back - Chico - one of my regulars - said I always told the best stories. I told him that they weren’t stories - they were just my life - but that didn’t matter. He said I should start to share them anyway. Well me being me who doesn't like doing anything for no good reason, I responded with, “yeah right Chico - I’ll put it all up when the kraken comes out of the sea.”

Well - I hate to say it - but today after the ice machine was fixed and the repairman who replaced Randy left, I was here all alone at the end of the bar. I fell into one of those time slips. You know? - the kind where your mind fixes on something and the day just gets away from you. My gaze trained on the water as the sun crossed the sky, going from a midday scorcher to something low and orange on the horizon. That's when I saw it - a giant tentacle reached out into the fading light and plucked a helicopter from the sky. I instantly broke from my haze. How many hours had I lost? I didn’t know - I forgot to check the clock when I came through. Three? - four hours?

Well anyways I flipped the news on. Wanted to see if anyone was talking about what I’d just seen, but when I did - the anchors only argued over the details of last night's game. To be fair - it was a pathetic showing - and to be fair - weird things like this happen all the time. If you come into JOE’S you’re bound to see something strange, but I'll make you a martini so damn good that you're bound to forget it.

So here I am - locked into writing this. At least I have my notebooks. I've always got one by my side. Manny calls them my bibles. Sometimes he even calls me little priest. I try to write down as much as I can. If I don't - even I get lost, each day a blur of lines that all look the same. And sometimes? - I swear my days are longer than a day. I don't know how to explain it, but it's like my life is being stretched out like taffy.

What I do know is that I’ve been working here a long time. I don't know how long exactly - but I know it's been a while. I don’t know how old I am anymore or how many notebooks I've gone through. I don’t even know where I came from before all of this. Sometimes I wonder if there ever was a before. For some reason it all feels like an after.

Well anyways - I guess the best way for you to understand is for me to show you - so when I find some time between polishing glassware and checking to see if the impossibly circular pit in the basement has gotten any bigger - I'll tell you about one of my days, but for now - that pirate is back and I think he needs help tying his boots - you know - because of the hook hands - so I gotta go - but Chico - you son-of-a-bitch - I hope you enjoy this, because now I've got the task of figuring out what the hell this story even is.

Part One

I work at a bar that sits on a dock spilling out into the harbor. It's a strange place for a bar, you know? You could drive past us a hundred times and never notice us. We’re so mundane - so brown - so bland - I bet we barely even pass for a bar. To be honest - I wouldn’t be surprised if people mistook us for part of the shipyard. Out here, it’s only us, them, and the hotel up the street, so there’s not much of a reason to come by unless you got one.

Out front - there’s a park splitting us off from the rest of town. Honestly - out here we’re nothing but an urban afterthought. The park itself - it’s filled with oaks and a dog yard and a small playground, but you know - now that I've come to think of it - I’ve never seen any kids in the park. No dogs or runners. Just those damn tiger bunnies all the time.

There’s a sign out front too. It's supposed to say ‘JOE’S’, but I doubt it’s legible anymore - and I never learned who Joe was anyways. If you ever walked in, you’d find the place dressed in a nautical theme; fishing nets and boat wheels on the walls and a bar top made of old ship wood - the owner makes sure I mention it. But just past the bar is the special thing that everybody misses out on by not coming in - the view. The back of JOE’S has huge windows that look out across the water to the airport. There’s always planes taking off - others landing. In a way - it’s like the whole world’s tangible in that view. Who knows? - maybe one day I’ll tell you the whole, I-woke-up-on-the-tarmac story, but first - who am I? You know - the person writing this.

Well - let’s just say I'm the bar man. If you ever sat down and ordered a drink - you got it from me. My name’s Dillon and I’ve worked here for as long as I remember. Wasn’t hard to get the job. Got it as soon as I moved here. The only thing I remember from the interview was the owner being a technophobe. Told me the place ran the old way - paper tickets and a cash register that looked more like a typewriter. I didn’t mind though - the pay was fine and he said I eat for free.

It took time to settle in. At first - the cook scared me. Tall. Muscles. A little mustache and sailor tattoos - but over the years, I’ve learned that that’s just Manny - though lately I am starting to suspect that he really does come from The Sea. He lives on a boat out back, but at night when closing down, I swear I hear him dive into the water and he does not come back up.

Oh and since I have to deal with the whole - robots-take-over-the-world paranoia with my boss - we don’t have any internet, and a signal is hard to catch by the harbor - so I don’t spend too much time scrolling. That’s okay - I spend most of my days reading - or cleaning - or dealing with the ooze that leaks from the faucet - or wrangling one of the more - how will I say it? - lively meat deliveries. Oh and lately there’s that light in the closet that won’t turn off. I swear it's getting brighter. But if I’m not dealing with any of those things, I’m out back - looking through those giant windows. There’s always something to see. Truth is - I can't always tell you if it's real - but honestly - I've stopped asking anyways.

That’s actually why I’m here writing this. A while back - Chico - one of my regulars - said I always told the best stories. I told him that they weren’t stories - they were just my life - but that didn’t matter. He said I should start to share them anyway. Well me being me who doesn't like doing anything for no good reason, I responded with, “yeah right Chico - I’ll put it all up when the kraken comes out of the sea.”

Well - I hate to say it - but today after the ice machine was fixed and the repairman who replaced Randy left, I was here all alone at the end of the bar. I fell into one of those time slips. You know? - the kind where your mind fixes on something and the day just gets away from you. My gaze trained on the water as the sun crossed the sky, going from a midday scorcher to something low and orange on the horizon. That's when I saw it - a giant tentacle reached out into the fading light and plucked a helicopter from the sky. I instantly broke from my haze. How many hours had I lost? I didn’t know - I forgot to check the clock when I came through. Three? - four hours?

Well anyways I flipped the news on. Wanted to see if anyone was talking about what I’d just seen, but when I did - the anchors only argued over the details of last night's game. To be fair - it was a pathetic showing - and to be fair - weird things like this happen all the time. If you come into JOE’S you’re bound to see something strange, but I'll make you a martini so damn good that you're bound to forget it.

So here I am - locked into writing this. At least I have my notebooks. I've always got one by my side. Manny calls them my bibles. Sometimes he even calls me little priest. I try to write down as much as I can. If I don't - even I get lost, each day a blur of lines that all look the same. And sometimes? - I swear my days are longer than a day. I don't know how to explain it, but it's like my life is being stretched out like taffy.

What I do know is that I’ve been working here a long time. I don't know how long exactly - but I know it's been a while. I don’t know how old I am anymore or how many notebooks I've gone through. I don’t even know where I came from before all of this. Sometimes I wonder if there ever was a before. For some reason it all feels like an after.

Well anyways - I guess the best way for you to understand is for me to show you - so when I find some time between polishing glassware and checking to see if the impossibly circular pit in the basement has gotten any bigger - I'll tell you about one of my days, but for now - that pirate is back and I think he needs help tying his boots - you know - because of the hook hands - so I gotta go - but Chico - you son-of-a-bitch - I hope you enjoy this, because now I've got the task of figuring out what the hell this story even is.

Part Two

I sat down for a while last night when I got off and went through my journals. I wanted to find the right story to tell first - but you know - it's kind of hard to pick something when everything's all - the seagull feet are back or the inside cloud clogged the air conditioner. Sometimes it's even shocking for me to see the line of reality I dance on.

I guess I’m just gonna flip to a random day last week. Any day will be as good as any other, and if I recall right - it was a fairly normal week. Well not normal - things haven't been normal for a long time - but it was an average week is what I’m trying to say. If I just start I think you'll get the idea. So here it is - a transcription of everything that was in my notebook from Tuesday, June 14th, 2022.

---

Tuesday, June 14th, 2022

12:50 PM: Got to JOE’S early. Manny was out front. He was wet. Said he went for a swim but I know better - but I’ve learned not to question the pruniness of his skin or the smell of seaweed on his mustache.

I did question his cough though. He spewed something black. Said he thinks he swallowed some harbor water on his swim.

“Gross,” I said.

1:22 PM: Supplies for the day arrived. Don’t know where they came from. No truck dropped them off. I mean - I know no truck ever drops them off - but it’s still weird. They're just there - out on the dock.

At least this time nothing moved inside the crate. I helped Manny take it into the kitchen and as he was prying it open and taking out fresh fruits and expensive wines and exotic meats, I asked him a question.

“Why do you prep all this stuff? You know hardly anyone ever comes.”

“Prep - don't prep,” he said. “The crate comes either way. I just want to eat good at night. Don't you?”

“Good? When it comes from you?”

Manny didn't like the joke.

I had another question.

“Where do they come from anyways?”

“What?”

“The crates - where do they come from?”

“Don't know.”

“What do you mean you don’t know?”

“I mean I don’t know.”

“You don't put in orders?”

“No.”

“Do you have a contact?”

“No.”

“Have you ever asked?”

“No.”

“Aren't you curious?”

“No.”

I don’t think much goes on in Manny’s head.

1:43 PM: I checked the sink for ooze. Nothing was in the faucet but the smell was still there. It wasn’t tricking me this time. I took the stretched out coat hanger I made last night and shoved it up the faucet, then yanked it out. I got the bastard. Foot-long this one. I threw him back in the harbor.

2:16 PM: I turned on the TVs behind the bar, but the only channel that came in shows a man. He’s naked and tied to a chair. He’s shaking - someone put tape over his mouth. A little clock counts down in the corner. I guess something's up with the cable box. Chico won't be happy.

2:48 PM: Thought I saw something coming out of the toilet in the men's room. Maybe it was just the lack of sleep? I don’t know anymore.

3:03 PM: Nope - definitely not just the lack of sleep. There is definitely something in the toilets.

3:15 PM: New hire arrived. Funny - I don't remember hiring him. Said his name’s Chase. I told him it was nice to meet him and he looked at me weird.

“We met before - you know - when you hired me?”

“I hired you?”

“Yes - you. We literally stood right here dude.”

I checked my notebook and sure enough - there’s the entry:

9:43 PM: Hired Chase. Seems a little weird but he wears metal t-shirts and is in school for music - maybe hiring him will make me look tough? Plus he didn’t react to Sideways Bob - so that’s good.

How’d that get away from me? That was only a few days ago. Would I really forget hiring a whole person? Am I really getting that bad? I’m starting to worry.

Either way - he told me he's a musician. Plays gigs at the hotel sometimes. Needs some extra cash for a new guitar. I told him to clean out the beer cooler. Gave him the electric prod - you know - just in case - but he looked confused. I pushed him on anyways. Gosh - how long will this one last?

3:35 PM: There’s a man outside waiting to come in. He knocked on the door but I tried to ignore him. Does he know we don’t open until four? I don’t open early for anyone. Anyways - I put an out of order sign on the men’s room. I hope he isn’t waiting for that.

3:55 PM: I went out back before opening to look out the windows. I like to watch the planes as they lift, the little metal cylinders shaking as they defy human limits. It’s my favorite time of the day. Today the airport moved good. Those few minutes felt like lifetimes - each plane taking off a whole life I lived. First I went on an adventure in the Amazon, then I climbed a mountain in Japan, and finally - I fell in love in Mexico.

Each life I imagined was a fractaling reality that I hoped would come true. Maybe not here - but somewhere else - in some other life where I found the courage to go out there and face the world. There has to be somewhere else - right? Is it possible that all versions of me are here - in the bar? It can’t be - can it?

Anyways - the guy’s knocking again. I guess it’s time to open the doors.

4:10 PM: I opened the doors and the man waiting outside rushed in. Kind of rude, don’t you think? He looked nervous when he sat - but excited too. Asked me for a shot and took it immediately then asked for another. I asked if it was nerves.

“Waiting for my date,” he said.

“Oh yeah? What's she look like?”

“Tall and brunette - and she’s got striking eyes and beautiful curves and…”

The man started to wax poetic about her and I listened, but a man can only hear of another’s muse for so long before it gets… awkward. Anyway - I wish him the best. Sounds like he’s meeting Celia.

4:26 PM: Chase emerged from the walk-in. He was defeated but alive. He asked if we had another battery for the prod so I showed him the supplies.

“So many legs,” he whispered under his breath.

The only advice I had for him was - “Go for the source.”

He nodded solemnly but I'm not sure he actually listened. I just hope I don’t have to clean him up.

4:33 PM: Manny wanted me to try his soup again. I told him no - not after the last time.

4:48 PM: Celia arrived. Her date introduced himself and they've been talking for a while. I swear - at some point I saw her whisper something in his ear, and I swear when she did, I saw her put something in his drink. I swear they both smiled. Something’s up.

5:15 PM: Chico sauntered in half-drunk and wanted me to put on the game, but I told him it was best we didn’t turn on the TVs. Something about a man chained to a chair didn’t seem to match the lovebird mood between Celia and her date. Chico begged to differ.

“A man tied up? That could be very erotic,” he said.

What is wrong with this man?

5:40 PM: Chase finished with the beer cooler. Took out the whole colony. I gotta say - I'm impressed. Didn’t take this one for a natural, but - hey - I can be wrong sometimes.

“Good job,” I said.

“Thanks,” he said, then he joked, “you know - I’ve played a video game or two… I just might know what I’m doing a little bit.”

We both laughed. When we turned to the bar the clothes on Celia’s date looked a little bigger. His feet now barely touched the ground. And I swear - I swear his voice was a little higher pitched.

“Does that guy look a little smaller to you?” asked Chase.

I told him to mind his own business.

5:55 PM: Chico ordered a beer - IPA - but when I checked the nozzle, something thick and red flowed out. I hope it isn’t blood again. I had Chase change the keg and all seems to be back in order.

6:20 PM: Spent some more time looking out the window. The Pirate was out there on the lower dock. He was looking longingly into the sea. I feel like he's waiting for something - but he won't say. Who knows - maybe he just likes the shimmer of the sun on the waves. What did he call it that one time? ‘God made sublimity’?

6:34 PM: I came back out front. Celia's date was gone. His clothes were on the stool and I swore I heard a little squeak. Celia had something small and flailing tucked in her cheek then she swallowed.

“Thank you boys,” she said as she got up and left a big tip - same as always.

Chico asked if we could turn the game on now that they were gone. After a few minutes of arguing with him I said fuck it. Fine - he won. Let him enjoy the man.

6:35 PM: You would think Chico would appreciate my hospitality - I did what he asked - but now he's begging me to turn it off. I will - but in a few more minutes. Personally - I don’t see the big deal.

7:15 PM: Chico still doesn’t look right. I asked him if he was okay - if he wanted a burger - but he didn’t say anything and only nodded his head. I put the ticket in but Manny came out and asked me to watch the grill. Considering this was the first ticket we had all day - I hope whatever he’s doing is important. I saw him go down by the dock and he hasn’t come back yet. It’s been a while now and I’m starting to worry. I don’t want to put JOE’S in the hands of the new guy - but I think I gotta check on him.

***

I’m sorry - I know we’re in the middle of the day and I hate to do this - but it’s getting late - and Chase has that wedding band coming tomorrow - so I need to stop typing and get some sleep. When I have some more time - I’ll tell you about the rest of Tuesday - but for now - I hope you’re happy Chico.

Part One

I work at a bar that sits on a dock spilling out into the harbor. It's a strange place for a bar, you know? You could drive past us a hundred times and never notice us. We’re so mundane - so brown - so bland - I bet we barely even pass for a bar. To be honest - I wouldn’t be surprised if people mistook us for part of the shipyard. Out here, it’s only us, them, and the hotel up the street, so there’s not much of a reason to come by unless you got one.

Out front - there’s a park splitting us off from the rest of town. Honestly - out here we’re nothing but an urban afterthought. The park itself - it’s filled with oaks and a dog yard and a small playground, but you know - now that I've come to think of it - I’ve never seen any kids in the park. No dogs or runners. Just those damn tiger bunnies all the time.

There’s a sign out front too. It's supposed to say ‘JOE’S’, but I doubt it’s legible anymore - and I never learned who Joe was anyways. If you ever walked in, you’d find the place dressed in a nautical theme; fishing nets and boat wheels on the walls and a bar top made of old ship wood - the owner makes sure I mention it. But just past the bar is the special thing that everybody misses out on by not coming in - the view. The back of JOE’S has huge windows that look out across the water to the airport. There’s always planes taking off - others landing. In a way - it’s like the whole world’s tangible in that view. Who knows? - maybe one day I’ll tell you the whole, I-woke-up-on-the-tarmac story, but first - who am I? You know - the person writing this.

Well - let’s just say I'm the bar man. If you ever sat down and ordered a drink - you got it from me. My name’s Dillon and I’ve worked here for as long as I remember. Wasn’t hard to get the job. Got it as soon as I moved here. The only thing I remember from the interview was the owner being a technophobe. Told me the place ran the old way - paper tickets and a cash register that looked more like a typewriter. I didn’t mind though - the pay was fine and he said I eat for free.

It took time to settle in. At first - the cook scared me. Tall. Muscles. A little mustache and sailor tattoos - but over the years, I’ve learned that that’s just Manny - though lately I am starting to suspect that he really does come from The Sea. He lives on a boat out back, but at night when closing down, I swear I hear him dive into the water and he does not come back up.

Oh and since I have to deal with the whole - robots-take-over-the-world paranoia with my boss - we don’t have any internet, and a signal is hard to catch by the harbor - so I don’t spend too much time scrolling. That’s okay - I spend most of my days reading - or cleaning - or dealing with the ooze that leaks from the faucet - or wrangling one of the more - how will I say it? - lively meat deliveries. Oh and lately there’s that light in the closet that won’t turn off. I swear it's getting brighter. But if I’m not dealing with any of those things, I’m out back - looking through those giant windows. There’s always something to see. Truth is - I can't always tell you if it's real - but honestly - I've stopped asking anyways.

That’s actually why I’m here writing this. A while back - Chico - one of my regulars - said I always told the best stories. I told him that they weren’t stories - they were just my life - but that didn’t matter. He said I should start to share them anyway. Well me being me who doesn't like doing anything for no good reason, I responded with, “yeah right Chico - I’ll put it all up when the kraken comes out of the sea.”

 Well - I hate to say it - but today after the ice machine was fixed and the repairman who replaced Randy left, I was here all alone at the end of the bar. I fell into one of those time slips. You know? - the kind where your mind fixes on something and the day just gets away from you. My gaze trained on the water as the sun crossed the sky, going from a midday scorcher to something low and orange on the horizon. That's when I saw it - a giant tentacle reached out into the fading light and plucked a helicopter from the sky. I instantly broke from my haze. How many hours had I lost? I didn’t know - I forgot to check the clock when I came through. Three? - four hours?

Well anyways I flipped the news on. Wanted to see if anyone was talking about what I’d just seen, but when I did - the anchors only argued over the details of last night's game. To be fair - it was a pathetic showing - and to be fair - weird things like this happen all the time. If you come into JOE’S you’re bound to see something strange, but I'll make you a martini so damn good that you're bound to forget it.

So here I am - locked into writing this. At least I have my notebooks. I've always got one by my side. Manny calls them my bibles. Sometimes he even calls me little priest. I try to write down as much as I can. If I don't - even I get lost, each day a blur of lines that all look the same. And sometimes? - I swear my days are longer than a day. I don't know how to explain it, but it's like my life is being stretched out like taffy.

What I do know is that I’ve been working here a long time. I don't know how long exactly - but I know it's been a while. I don’t know how old I am anymore or how many notebooks I've gone through. I don’t even know where I came from before all of this. Sometimes I wonder if there ever was a before. For some reason it all feels like an after.

Well anyways - I guess the best way for you to understand is for me to show you - so when I find some time between polishing glassware and checking to see if the impossibly circular pit in the basement has gotten any bigger - I'll tell you about one of my days, but for now - that pirate is back and I think he needs help tying his boots - you know - because of the hook hands - so I gotta go - but Chico - you son-of-a-bitch - I hope you enjoy this, because now I've got the task of figuring out what the hell this story even is. 

Part Two

I sat down for a while last night when I got off and went through my journals. I wanted to find the right story to tell first - but you know - it's kind of hard to pick something when everything's all - the seagull feet are back or the inside cloud clogged the air conditioner. Sometimes it's even shocking for me to see the line of reality I dance on.

I guess I’m just gonna flip to a random day last week. Any day will be as good as any other, and if I recall right - it was a fairly normal week. Well not normal - things haven't been normal for a long time - but it was an average week is what I’m trying to say. If I just start I think you'll get the idea. So here it is - a transcription of everything that was in my notebook from Tuesday, June 14th, 2022.  

***  

Tuesday, June 14th, 2022

 
12:50 PM: Got to JOE’S early. Manny was out front. He was wet. Said he went for a swim but I know better - but I’ve learned not to question the pruniness of his skin or the smell of seaweed on his mustache. 

I did question his cough though. He spewed something black. Said he thinks he swallowed some harbor water on his swim. 

“Gross,” I said.   

1:22 PM: Supplies for the day arrived. Don’t know where they came from. No truck dropped them off. I mean - I know no truck ever drops them off - but it’s still weird. They're just there - out on the dock. 
At least this time nothing moved inside the crate. I helped Manny take it into the kitchen and as he was prying it open and taking out fresh fruits and expensive wines and exotic meats, I asked him a question.

“Why do you prep all this stuff? You know hardly anyone ever comes.”

“Prep - don't prep,” he said. “The crate comes either way. I just want to eat good at night. Don't you?”

“Good? When it comes from you?”

Manny didn't like the joke.

I had another question.

“Where do they come from anyways?”

“What?”

“The crates - where do they come from?”

“Don't know.”

“What do you mean you don’t know?”

“I mean I don’t know.”

“You don't put in orders?”

“No.”

“Do you have a contact?”

“No.”

“Have you ever asked?”

“No.”

“Aren't you curious?”

“No.”

I don’t think much goes on in Manny’s head.  

1:43 PM: I checked the sink for ooze. Nothing was in the faucet but the smell was still there. It wasn’t tricking me this time. I took the stretched out coat hanger I made last night and shoved it up the faucet, then yanked it out. I got the bastard. Foot-long this one. I threw him back in the harbor.  

2:16 PM: I turned on the TVs behind the bar, but the only channel that came in shows a man. He’s naked and tied to a chair. He’s shaking - someone put tape over his mouth. A little clock counts down in the corner. I guess something's up with the cable box. Chico won't be happy.  

2:48 PM: Thought I saw something coming out of the toilet in the men's room. Maybe it was just the lack of sleep? I don’t know anymore.  

3:03 PM: Nope - definitely not just the lack of sleep. There is definitely something in the toilets.  

3:15 PM: New hire arrived. Funny - I don't remember hiring him. Said his name’s Chase. I told him it was nice to meet him and he looked at me weird.

“We met before - you know - when you hired me?”

“I hired you?”

“Yes - you. We literally stood right here dude.”

I checked my notebook and sure enough - there’s the entry:

9:43 PM: Hired Chase. Seems a little weird but he wears metal t-shirts and is in school for music - maybe hiring him will make me look tough? Plus he didn’t react to Sideways Bob - so that’s good.

 How’d that get away from me? That was only a few days ago. Would I really forget hiring a whole person? Am I really getting that bad? I’m starting to worry.

Either way - he told me he's a musician. Plays gigs at the hotel sometimes. Needs some extra cash for a new guitar. I told him to clean out the beer cooler. Gave him the electric prod - you know - just in case - but he looked confused. I pushed him on anyways. Gosh - how long will this one last?  

3:35 PM: There’s a man outside waiting to come in. He knocked on the door but I tried to ignore him. Does he know we don’t open until four? I don’t open early for anyone. Anyways - I put an out of order sign on the men’s room. I hope he isn’t waiting for that.  

3:55 PM: I went out back before opening to look out the windows. I like to watch the planes as they lift, the little metal cylinders shaking as they defy human limits. It’s my favorite time of the day. Today the airport moved good. Those few minutes felt like lifetimes - each plane taking off a whole life I lived. First I went on an adventure in the Amazon, then I climbed a mountain in Japan, and finally - I fell in love in Mexico. 

Each life I imagined was a fractaling reality that I hoped would come true. Maybe not here - but somewhere else - in some other life where I found the courage to go out there and face the world. There has to be somewhere else - right? Is it possible that all versions of me are here - in the bar? It can’t be - can it?

Anyways - the guy’s knocking again. I guess it’s time to open the doors.  

4:10 PM: I opened the doors and the man waiting outside rushed in. Kind of rude, don’t you think? He looked nervous when he sat - but excited too. Asked me for a shot and took it immediately then asked for another. I asked if it was nerves.

“Waiting for my date,” he said.

“Oh yeah? What's she look like?”

“Tall and brunette - and she’s got striking eyes and beautiful curves and…”

The man started to wax poetic about her and I listened, but a man can only hear of another’s muse for so long before it gets… awkward. Anyway - I wish him the best. Sounds like he’s meeting Celia.   

4:26 PM: Chase emerged from the walk-in. He was defeated but alive. He asked if we had another battery for the prod so I showed him the supplies.

“So many legs,” he whispered under his breath.

The only advice I had for him was - “Go for the source.”

He nodded solemnly but I'm not sure he actually listened. I just hope I don’t have to clean him up.  

4:33 PM: Manny wanted me to try his soup again. I told him no - not after the last time.  

4:48 PM: Celia arrived. Her date introduced himself and they've been talking for a while. I swear - at some point I saw her whisper something in his ear, and I swear when she did, I saw her put something in his drink. I swear they both smiled. Something’s up.   

5:15 PM: Chico sauntered in half-drunk and wanted me to put on the game, but I told him it was best we didn’t turn on the TVs. Something about a man chained to a chair didn’t seem to match the lovebird mood between Celia and her date. Chico begged to differ.

 “A man tied up? That could be very erotic,” he said. 

What is wrong with this man?  

5:40 PM: Chase finished with the beer cooler. Took out the whole colony. I gotta say - I'm impressed. Didn’t take this one for a natural, but - hey - I can be wrong sometimes.

“Good job,” I said.
“Thanks,” he said, then he joked, “you know - I’ve played a video game or two… I just might know what I’m doing a little bit.”

We both laughed. When we turned to the bar the clothes on Celia’s date looked a little bigger. His feet now barely touched the ground. And I swear - I swear his voice was a little higher pitched.

“Does that guy look a little smaller to you?” asked Chase.

I told him to mind his own business.  

5:55 PM: Chico ordered a beer - IPA - but when I checked the nozzle, something thick and red flowed out. I hope it isn’t blood again. I had Chase change the keg and all seems to be back in order.  

6:20 PM: Spent some more time looking out the window. The Pirate was out there on the lower dock. He was looking longingly into the sea. I feel like he's waiting for something - but he won't say. Who knows - maybe he just likes the shimmer of the sun on the waves. What did he call it that one time? ‘God made sublimity’?

6:34 PM: I came back out front. Celia's date was gone. His clothes were on the stool and I swore I heard a little squeak. Celia had something small and flailing tucked in her cheek then she swallowed.
“Thank you boys,” she said as she got up and left a big tip - same as always.

Chico asked if we could turn the game on now that they were gone. After a few minutes of arguing with him I said fuck it. Fine - he won. Let him enjoy the man.   

6:35 PM: You would think Chico would appreciate my hospitality - I did what he asked - but now he's begging me to turn it off. I will - but in a few more minutes. Personally - I don’t see the big deal.  

7:15 PM: Chico still doesn’t look right. I asked him if he was okay - if he wanted a burger - but he didn’t say anything and only nodded his head. I put the ticket in but Manny came out and asked me to watch the grill. Considering this was the first ticket we had all day - I hope whatever he’s doing is important. I saw him go down by the dock and he hasn’t come back yet. It’s been a while now and I’m starting to worry. I don’t want to put JOE’S in the hands of the new guy - but I think I gotta check on him.  

***  

I’m sorry - I know we’re in the middle of the day and I hate to do this - but it’s getting late - and Chase has that wedding band coming tomorrow - so I need to stop typing and get some sleep. When I have some more time - I’ll tell you about the rest of Tuesday - but for now - I hope you’re happy Chico.

UP NEXT (Part Three / Part Four)