The gentleman with the pomaded hair steps out of his Prius and casts furtive glances around the bar’s parking lot. He sees the cracked asphalt and the beat-up motorcycle pulled up beside the door to the establishment.
He nervously jingles his keys and almost drops his phone when it buzzes. He looks at the screen. “Honey pie” is displayed on the screen, along with her flabby arms and protruding gut. He taps the side button twice to cancel the call, then turns his phone off. It’s time for action.
Screwing up his courage, he walks to the front door, stopping only long enough to spit his mouthwash out into the bushes alongside. Then he steps through the door.
He’s greeted by the sight of a long wooden bar. To his right, a row of dartboards on the wall. To his left, an open area that could be a dance floor. Restrooms are past the dance floor. The light is dim and a haze fills the air. This place is obviously vape friendly. Good.
A chirpy older lady smiles and greets him as he walks up to the bar. She is weather beaten and has a bit too much makeup on, but seems nice. Her shirt says, “I found the Hole in the Wall.”Interesting. Could mean several different things. Did she find a way to extend her youth? Is she referring to the name of the establishment? Does she have holes in need of filling?
No matter. I have come to have the hole in my heart filled with meaning. No longer will I be shackled by the expectations and demands of this cruel world. I will find respite in the presence of one who has the answers.
These thoughts run through his mind and pushes him to utter, rather breathlessly in his heightening anticipation, “Is Nicholas in?”