The Mudcat Café TM
Thread #82239   Message #1506252
Posted By: Charmion
21-Jun-05 - 04:50 PM
Thread Name: BS: Mudcat Low Dive
Subject: RE: BS: Mudcat Low Dive
The door is greasy even on the outside. Inside, the floor starts to be sticky right at the threshold, and the walls and ceiling are brown with nicotine. Peering through the gloom and cigarette smoke I can see the bar, decorated with the traditional gallon jars of pickled eggs and Vienna sausage (not together -- even here). The tables are even stickier than the floor, and each is covered with finger-marked glasses that used to hold the viper's piss they call draft beer in these parts. Twenty cents a glass, six for a dollar, traditionally ordered in pairs (hold up two fingers).

Everyone sits in this joint -- no leaning on the bar -- 'cause folks around here can't be trusted where they can reach the till or the beer taps. Some stare at the television set bolted to the wall, which shows the last decent game the Habs played, back when Lafleur was still flying. Others glower at each other across the table, drinking steadily and keeping up a low buzz of guy chat. A bunch of submariners getting stotius at the front table have almost reached the raucous singing stage. From the back I hear the click of billiard balls as yet another new guy in town gets fleeced by the house expert.

Ahhh, I'm back. It's been a while. I wonder if I can find a spot against the wall ... Yes, thank you; I'll have two draft.