Back at the bar (Blogophilia 39.7)
Without a word, the bartender put the drink next to his hand. The 3 sheets was quiet this time of night. It was getting close to last call and all rowdy yuppies had either paired off or passed out on the bar. Not drunk enough to shake off the rage, he was finding it hard to focus. He chugged the scotch without thinking. A sharp pain followed. With a curse, he pulled the stirrer away from his eye dabbed his face with the bar napkin. The offending alcoholic droplets remaining were spared from going into his eyes. Two blond heads were nodding and arguing over the latest sex offender stats on the screen over the bar. They tried to one up themselves on what the best method to deal with this “crisis”. One championed longer prison terms. The other was touting a medical treatment that would cause the prisoner to collapse like a myotonic goat was upon arousal. Kind of a reverse Viagra, with everything deflating as one part inflates. A smirk crossed Je...