Hi all! I wrote a little story about No Tears at the Gathering Place and there was a sap there named Calvin crying in his beer. I would like to invite you for a friendly visit to The Gathering Place. Please come with made up friends or real. Caveat: mention Calvin in some capacity. Have fun!
No Tears at the Gathering Place - Irish Variation on a Theme
The high-balls and half-pints gleam double-stacked under hard liquor hanging proud; the stout is pouring like dark art. The air is thick with shallow conversation - Friday night looms, and I’m talking football bluster with the regulars as we wait for the suits to grace us.
For more than one hundred years this pub has played host to both salty working class and soft office jockeys alike in our cosy less-troubled end of Belfast, but rarely does a truly new victim of vice stumble our way.
John looked up from his vodka soon as they walked in and muttered ‘bloody yanks’, and yeah it was obvious – stereotypes can only ever be partly true, but never entirely false: into a room full of drunk Irish strode these big Americans who seemed, for a while, embarrassingly in awe of our authenticity.
Five hours, six Guinness and a handful of single malt recommendations later and Calvin was burning all our ears with a pitiful high-volume moan about ‘that bitch’.
Tommy called over from the corner: ‘leave the violins at the door!’ and Fred chose that moment to offer up a frothy-moustached version of ol’ blue eyes to the room.
Er, a quick re-write of something that may or may not be in 6SV2...
Calvin vs The Alien (not that one...)
Calvin had always thought it preposterous that technologically advanced aliens would cross galaxies just to probe the anal canals of human beings.
Until it happened to him.
The alien held a black, glassy pea between his fingers.
“You should be grateful – we have a need for this, the rarest and most valuable substance in the universe, and now your prostate works properly.”
“You should pay me for that, I’ve been violated and plundered, and… and… I could sue you!” complained Calvin.
“Be thankful we’re repatriating you, instead of just ejecting you, Monkey-Man,” the Alien growled, shoving his silvery face into Calvin’s and baring formidable teeth, “And that I personally consider you inedible… and unattractive.”
So there in front of me was my dilemma, take the last stool at the bar next to that sniveling snot ball Calvin and listen to him shred napkins over that nasty beast he thought so much of, or grab my desperately needed pint and try to down most of it before it was jostled out of my grasp by the wild crowd. Damn, I can't abuse beer like that so, in the seat my bottom goes... "Hey Joe, I'll have the usual.." I don't even have time to breath in and on come the waterworks, “Oh Runswith, what would you do man, WHAT WOULD YOU DOOOOOhohohohooooo!!!!…” WTF, somebody shoot me, when will this guy grow some for the love of GOD! Good thing they banned smoking in here. If someone lit up near us, we’d all be instantly vaporized from the fumes oozing out of his every pore, and WHAT IS THAT SMELL!!! JFC, that orifice could be classified an environmental superfund site! … Ah well, the doctor is in if it’ll get me just five minutes of peace.. So, I wrap my hand around my cool glass of comfort, take a big slug, turn to Calvin and say “Now Calvin, how many times do I need to tell you that stupid b..” Holy sh, what is wrong w/ that guy on the other side of Calvin?!? He’s shakin’ all over the place! Holy cow, he’s having a heart attack! “Hey Calvin, quick, help me w/ this guy, let’s get him on the floor and loosen his tie!” “Joe, get an ambulance here quick!!!”. We get the guy to the floor and I start to loosen his tie, while Calvin tries to keep him from flailing around too much. “Hey Olive, quick, toss me that aspirin you keep in that warehouse you carry on your shoulder!”, “Lorianne, can you sit on his legs so he quits using my kidneys for football practice?!”. “Joe, where is that frickin’ ambulance???”. I grab the guy’s chin to try and open his mouth to slip the aspirin in and all of a sudden he thrusts his chest into the air and there’s this nasty cracking sound. His chest… well, no pretty way to say this, explodes like a big zit, sending blood, bone, and other… stuff everywhere. I fall back and try and wipe the nasty out of my eyes as I hear this guttural sound that can only come from, nfw, it can’t be…. I blink, and not believing what I’m seeing, but no sh.. out pops an Alien! Calvin had fallen back against the bar and hit his head. He’s rubbing his head looking around a bit dazed and confused when he spots our newest patron. “OMG, what is that????” he shrieks. Great, the dumba$$ caught the beast’s attention, where’s something to smash it?? And WHERE has everyone else gone so fast??? Just then the alien lunges at Calvin, right for his snotty face. Calvin can’t do much but scream like a little girl, wet himself, and hit his head on the bar again trying to get away. He doesn’t even have the sense to duck. The creature nails him and locks on. I can only see Calvin’s terrified eyes. There they are in a lip lock from hell and all I can think is “Guess that’s the only thing he can attract these days” (sorry Anna, you were passed out, he took you home unconscious, I was gonna tell you, honest…). All of a sudden, Calvin lets out a horrific belch, the creature starts twitching, snaps straight as a pole and then goes limp. What a sight… Calvin sitting there on the floor, in a bloody embrace with a now-dead alien baby. “JOE, I believe I’ll have another” as I turn my stool back over and cop a squat. Just another fun night at the Place.
Maybe Calvin needs to get a hint that he needs to find a new stop up the road to cry in his beard. It's pretty obvious Olive isn't for him, pretty clear the guys are fed up with him, and it looks like no one wants Mom around there either so maybe someone should send him a singing telegram the next time he pops in.