"I'm so sorry, that I couldn't offer you a less dangerous solution," she said drying a glass.
"Oh, it's not that bad," I say, looking down into my glass, the liquid had orange peel and maraschino cherries, and reminded me of the show Mad Men. "I mean, it's stable at the very least." I take a drink. Chemist humor. Stacy had been the bartender of the University bar for a long time, and could make a joke about any subject.
"How was class, Professor?" Stacy said, she put the glass down and began mixing another drink.
My second one on the way, I thought. "Awful, this student, who seems to know everything, came to me after class making excuses, saying he was bad at tests and tried desperately to prove to me that he knew the information," I said, and gulped deep from the glass, almost swallowing a cherry. "And boys...ugh the boys....the gay ones I mean, all of them think I'm gay and try to get me to be their LGBTQ advocate." I raise my left ring finger, it has a golden band on is, old and weathered from my many years of marriage to my wife. "You know I'm married Stacy, everyone knows I'm married, but every year, they come, even the girls. I'm ugly as sin Stacy."
"You're full of yourself," Stacy chuckled, "From what I heard, you have several chile peppers on ratemyprofessor.com, and it's not all gay people comin' after you, one student, drunk mind you, said she was going to 'tell Dr. Jones how she felt'."
"My name isn't Jones," I said, finishing my drink and reaching for the other Stacy had prepared.
"Jus'a nickname, Professor," Stacy laughed. "You know the scene form Indiana Jones? Where the girl writes 'I LOVE YOU' on her eye lids?"
"Course I do," I said, thinking about the night after I watched the film with my girlfriend at the time, I was in College at the time, and she had the idea of doing the same the next day, but replaced the word 'LOVE' with two words that began with 'W' and the other 'F'. She was always talented with make-up. I haven't seen her in a while. I drank from my glass and grabbed an ice cube with my teeth. "Is this poor girl in my class?"
"No," Stacy say plainly handing out a bottled beer after opening it with a church key. "For all I know she was actually talking about Dr. Jones in the Psychology Department."
"Is he the one with the-" I begin to say, but Stacy cut me off.
"-habit of going on about Phineus Gauge, that's the one," Stacy said. "We all know the story, but he literally wrote the book on the subject and has to let everyone know." We both laugh. Stacy was about my age, and married as well to one of the faculty of the biology department. She wore her hair back, and had a tan complexion the sort of color that made you feel safe talking to her through the language of flowers and paint makers and melanin. "That all you're having tonight Rick?"
"Yeah..." I said, looking down and realizing my glass was empty. The bar was almost empty, just like my glass, and the ice cubes could make for fine mock furniture, the crevasses were even occupied by orange peel and cherry just like the seats in the bar were occupied by the backsides of students working and workers from the kitchen staff who were getting off work. Monday night is always slow. "...I guess i'd better get home," The next thing I knew, I was on the ground, and there was a laud rat tatat sounding through the bar. Stacy was face down on the bar, in a growing puddle of blood, red as maraschino cherries. Glass broke and people screamed. Someone grabbed my hair, and shone a flashlight in my face. "W-wha?" I stammered. My ears ringing.331Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡBwAIncAO3i
"This one," a voice said, sounding like it came from behind a gas mask. "This one is the one."
"What's going on?" I said, tipsily pushing the light out of my eyes. Men wearing all black and gas masks with large guns stood about the bar. They pressed a breather to my face, and a strange tasting gas filled my lungs....an....d.....I....w..a.....s......
I lifted my head at the feeling of a cold glass against the back of my neck.
"I'm so sorry, that I couldn't offer you a less dangerous solution," she chuckled, placing the glass in front of me.
"Oh, it's not that bad," I say, looking down at the glass, the liquid had orange peel and maraschino cherries, and reminded me of the show Mad Men. "I mean, it's stable at the very least." I take a drink. Chemist humor. Stacy had been the bartender of the University bar for a long time, and could make a joke about any subject.
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