September 05, 2022
⚡️An Ode to the Anvil⚡️
Ever think about steppin’ out, just getting out, like fuckit, “I’m OUT!?!?” Yea, me too, I get it. Well, you got some CASH and CASH ONLY?!?! Then head over to Nick’s, park free if you’re Greek, hideaway behind the red curtains, it’s Welcome Home to Harley Riders, a lava lamp, white porcelain sink, Peppermint GIONELLI. Wait, what, you don’t smoke KOOLS? Fine. Chase this pair of aces with a can of Hamm’s, a shot o’ Jamo & a Cutty water back. Your ole lady call a hollerin' after ya, Good Luck Nick’ll pick up: “Yes yes ma’m I’ll see if he’s here.” No ma’m, ain’t seen him, but I’ll be on the lookout, for motorcycles, a pair of kings, 7’s are wild.
This ain’t no place for Fall Guys—the guilty is guilty. Brass-buckled flatheads cannonballin’ round the Schlitz Globe on chopp’d-up knuckles, old skool pans & rake’d out shovels—all hell raisin’ & cat callin’ like some southern squall come tearin’ ass through town on a dog day Monday afternoon - 6pm (that’s when the dog GOES ON DUTY: AFTER 6). But don’t sweat the Shepherd; Instead, let Nick shepherd you in. Have a seat. Sit. You’re a guest at the Inn, a candidate if you will: “An Honorary Member of the Order of the Schlitz Brown Bottle.” Relax. Drink Escorial Green Liquor, Fleischmann’s, Seagrams 7, Mcormick Gin. We have Acetaminophen. You’re amongst friends. Sit long, talk much, but “Don’t Just Sit There,” introduce yourself to Happiness!!! Happiness is time spent topless behind the bar, her golden Pilsner hair fixed like the red- breasted cardinal, perched atop Jim Beam’s tight pointy rack, draped in festive Christmas lights, season no particular. Fuck You 2020. I did that. And then I fell backward off my red leather & metal bar stool, a handful of broken Ruffles midway to my mouth. It was the Peppermint GIONELLI caused it. As I laid there for a moment, staring into the great mysterious purple bulb overhead, I wondered to myself, “What lies beyond that T-system of white vinyl heaven, beyond the sight-line of pocket tees & long sleeves (FREE KOOZI), beyond the row of been-there-done-that Sturgis cans?” And the answer I discovered in that very moment was….I CLOSED NICK’S.
This ain’t no place for Fall Guys—the guilty is guilty. Brass-buckled flatheads cannonballin’ round the Schlitz Globe on chopp’d-up knuckles, old skool pans & rake’d out shovels—all hell raisin’ & cat callin’ like some southern squall come tearin’ ass through town on a dog day Monday afternoon - 6pm (that’s when the dog GOES ON DUTY: AFTER 6). But don’t sweat the Shepherd; Instead, let Nick shepherd you in. Have a seat. Sit. You’re a guest at the Inn, a candidate if you will: “An Honorary Member of the Order of the Schlitz Brown Bottle.” Relax. Drink Escorial Green Liquor, Fleischmann’s, Seagrams 7, Mcormick Gin. We have Acetaminophen. You’re amongst friends. Sit long, talk much, but “Don’t Just Sit There,” introduce yourself to Happiness!!! Happiness is time spent topless behind the bar, her golden Pilsner hair fixed like the red- breasted cardinal, perched atop Jim Beam’s tight pointy rack, draped in festive Christmas lights, season no particular. Fuck You 2020. I did that. And then I fell backward off my red leather & metal bar stool, a handful of broken Ruffles midway to my mouth. It was the Peppermint GIONELLI caused it. As I laid there for a moment, staring into the great mysterious purple bulb overhead, I wondered to myself, “What lies beyond that T-system of white vinyl heaven, beyond the sight-line of pocket tees & long sleeves (FREE KOOZI), beyond the row of been-there-done-that Sturgis cans?” And the answer I discovered in that very moment was….I CLOSED NICK’S.
