A.G.E's Joint

There was a bar I was a regular at called Good Ol' Days, so much so the waitresses would have the pitcher (and however many glasses we needed) by the time My friends and I would sit down. And like any good bar, there are bar stories, one's you wonder how it happened.  The best one happened right after I got married. It was a pretty fall day and my wife and I sat outside watching the butterflies play on the patio railing as we watched the sunset across the road.  Since this was kind of a "date", she insisted I dress up a little. I had on a white sport coat with an open collar shirt. I was working out a bit then making me look a little like a bouncer. A couple friends stopped by our table and we waxed loquacious about jobs, relationships, and who would be the next spouse to get knocked up.  A =band was butchering a cover of "You Spin Me Around (like a record)", making it sound like "My Big Ten Inch (Record). The crowd was lubricated enough to substitute ...

Fluffy white clouds surrounded him as he drove down 316 towards home.   Blue sky reminded him of Sarah’s soft eyes at the beach cottage. He relaxed a little and smiled.  He must have been eleven or twelve then. It wasn’t much of a house, just three room of concrete block with peeling white paint. The first night they had slipped away from Mother and ended up on the dock. Sitting quietly next to each other, they marveled at the purple and gold streaks stacked on top of each other as high as they could see. She wore thin, white blouse that night with nothing underneath. Small breast were just visible. Her lavender scent was masked by low tide. They knew they should be doing something, but having no idea what it was. She turned towards him, damp blonde hair framing her soft eyes.  “What’cha thinkin’?. “How it would be good to take a boat out there on the sea. Get away from Mother” “Can I go?” “If we can find one. I’ve never sailed, th...

Rain was speckling the windshield, turning streetlights into starbursts and oncoming headlights into energy fields he didn't understand. Didn't matter anyway. A flick of a lever started the wipers on their slow, rhythmic pace. Click Clack...Click Clack....  As Jeremy drove, the car bomb scene replayed itself in time with the noise.Click Clack...Click Clack... Chaos and destruction was what his life kept coming back to. Chaos he was used to. Destruction was going to be a new experience. Ole Harry here, back with you geezers  on WOFT.  You remember the Golden Age of Music of the late 1970's? Oh, wow. Don't I sound like your mother? The tone she would use talkin' about how Acid and 'Ludes would give you flashbacks? In honor of that sentiment, he is Jimmy Buffett with "We Are the People Are Parents Warned Us About..." The steel drums coming from the speakers seemed to turn off the noise in his head. The rain began to slack off. Roswell Road was desert...