muddy water bar

another creative writing assignment. emulate a living writer. i chose the author of my favorite book. gold stars if you can figure out who.

I really couldn’t tell you what I think of all these crazy things going on. There’s war, world hunger, protests and I can’t find my damn car keys. I went out last night for a drink. I needed one after the day I had. The new bartender didn’t believe I was legal, taking my ID and scrutinizing it while glancing up to look at me and ask me my birthday. Then he flipped it over to make sure it wasn’t fake. Like I would want to come in here, with a bunch of greasy old men with rotting teeth and try to get a beer with a fake ID. If I wasn’t of age, I think I’d be trying to sweet talk old Boots to buy me a round or three. It’s pretty well known around the town that if you’ve got a sweet smile and a tight pair of jeans, he’ll buy you what ever drink you want. Don’t you just love small towns like this? I see a group of girls walk in, with faded black marker X’s on the backs of their hands, either they’ve been dancing all night, or desperately trying to wipe them off. I almost go tell them to get some of that antibacterial soap stuff and give that a try. They take one look around and the conversations they were having when they first entered fall silent. Yeah, it’s a raggedy old place, what the hell do you expect with a place called Muddy Waters?

As much as I rag and complain about this place, I wouldn’t change it. It keeps the super perky, phony college kids out because why go someplace dark when you can go down the street to Kazoos and get pitchers for $4 and half the time they’re too busy to check for ID.

I went there one time, it was full of drunk frat boys trying to get a piece of a*s before the night was over and girls who were half drunk believing every drunken story they told. “OMG Gina, Mark told me that he got his black belt in ka-ra-tay in Japan and that he had to fight actual ninjas to get his sword.” I’m not making it up. She really did say O-M-G. And I really did hear that sentence trying to find my way to the bathroom so I could get some towels to wipe the beer some drunk guy had spilled down my shirt. I’m no karate expert, much less a ka-ra-tay one, but I don’t think you have to fight ninjas, nor do you get a sword for it. What kind of Kill Bill crap is that? So I stay at Muddy Waters, where when the juke box works, it’s sad country music, the story of the highway man, seven year aches, and the ballad of Pancho and Lefty. Besides the bartender, I’m the only one born in here after the invention of color TV, but that’s okay. These songs remind me so much of growing up. I guess I’m what you could call an “old soul.” To tell you the truth, I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Reviews

[Emily B]

Not only are you an intriguing writer, but honey, you have fabulous taste in music. Ray Charles and Johny Cash and Willie Nelson! I may be telling my age, but I've been listening to their music since the days of vinyl records and clunky eight tracks. Muddy Waters sounds like a cool, small town watering hole. I never was much for hanging out where the 'cool' kids did. . . I hope you got a good grade on the assignment. I love it!