Nightmare at Dows Corner

Sitting and waiting, perched on my ebony swivel barstool staring out at the birch trees gently swaying in the wind I ask myself "Why are these trees oscillating in such a fashion?" I had been studying them for around 30 minutes and they had a distinctly un-natural flow to their movements, did it have something to do with the twisted mess a decrepit old barman left my head in last night? His inane ramblings trying to convince me his father designed and built the bouncing bomb?

What a swine, creeping up on me out of view crouched below the bar then jumping up and with an unstable landing grinning and spurting out "Why sir, is the earth not lob sided? Why does all the mining that take place not make the earth off kilter?"... Did that tired night really happen or did I collapse in a chemical induced coma where this nightmare night played out and upon waking up think it was all reality? No is the answer, how else would I explain the stacks of Dows Corner beer mats scattered all over my room and the huge amount of Bloody Mary stains all over my jeans and lumberjack shirt? It did happen and now I’m left sitting here with rotten guts watching trees slowly trickle over them like burning candles only never getting smaller. A sort of self activated hallucination, for which I’ve thought about seeking medical advice but Ive always enjoyed being able to manipulate an objects size and shape at will by simply staring at it. However, I’m still finding it hard to deal with the jagged memories of this mutant bar tender. Leaning over the bar staring with his sagging old face that housed the eyes of a young man, on fire and steaming with eagerness, and in a pace that did not match the old rumbling voice he began quickly saying.

"I borrowed a friends car once...I parked it near a cliff and as I got out and shut the door the damn thing rolled straight over, 80 feet free fall landing square on its wheels in two foot of water, the bugger still worked though I tells ya! Oh yes we drove it to the dance that very night!" And then he burst into a roaring laughter that would tare the skin off a small child’s face.

Jesus wept, I remember him pulling out a set of handcuffs "Put these on and then try to get out of them, it can be done don’t worry about that! Ill give you a free beer if you can!" But by this time my brain had had enough, it was clear to see this barman was a very rare breed, an ageing process that was 20 years too early the brain was still active and curious but the body was old and decrepit, torn and withered. The man had to be dealt with though and with a definite authority, his eagerness could soon turn on me and so I blurted back "Listen you ork!" he choked for a second and took a slight nervous wobble.

"Id like that free beer anyway, it’s your choice" I shrugged "I could have you locked up for being a paranoid schizophrenic. I have complete diplomatic immunity arranged with the American Attorney General in exchange for allowing the U.S to build military bases on my fathers lands around the remote pacific islands of Micronesia, all it takes is a call to my lawyer"

"Whoa! Hold about there buddy, lets not get so uptight around here jeeez you’ll have people talking" He replied as he passed me the free beer, there was a clear-cut change in his attitude as if he had been threatened with being locked up for being a mentalist previously and yet managed to wriggle free of the noose that was coming down on him. The poor bastard I thought, his curiosity was his ultimate doom, if he had the brains to match the inquisitiveness he could own a chain of these bars not being threatened by foreigners under false pretences with incarceration for life.

We were left alone for the remainder of the night but it only took another 30 minutes before the barman was too much for human eyes to handle. We stood up and as my friend and I left the barman was attempting to get out of the handcuffs himself, struggling and twisting, maybe he was telling the truth before and it wasn’t some sort of crude attempt to chain me up, knock me out and feed me to his pigs. But I wasn’t in the mood for finding out so my friend and I left like teenage vampires stepping out into the crisp cold night with total confidence and the distilled brazen eagerness of an old man.