Kaycie received a rude awakening on Sunday morning when she learned she was working 11am-7pm that day. She got called into work after a coworker called in sick, which wouldn’t have been so bad had she not worked 8pm-3am the night before. She got out of bed and got ready for the day.
She showed up for her shift at Firehouse, a bar downtown, a little bit before 11 am. The place is nothing remarkable. Advertisements for beer and Iowa Hawkeye memorabilia cover the walls, TVs broadcast sports, and regulars sit at the bar. A little bit trashy, but what more can you really expect from a bar?
Unfortunately for her, Sunday marked the first NFL game of the year. The bar flooded with people, each demanding that the TV closest to them play the game they wanted to watch. Kaycie covered the inside while one of her coworkers covered the outside. It was a crappy experience and the two were scrambling to get things done.
The two were slammed until another person showed up for their shift at 2pm and then another showed up at 4pm. The bar was definitely easier to manage with four hands on deck. Around 4pm another notable person also arrived at the bar.
Pauly walked in, limping a little as he went, and towed his oxygen tank alongside him. Although he is only a man of 65, his appearance would suggest he’s much older. This probably has something to do with his overall scruffy appearance, his smoking habit, and the fact that he downs four mugs full of Diet Coke a night even though he’s a diabetic. Needless to say, he doesn’t take care of himself.
Even though he looks like he might have rolled in off of the streets, he’s actually a semi-well known millionaire around the area. He inherited a farm from his family and has been rolling in the big bucks ever since. He doesn’t share that money with his wife and kids, because he doesn’t have any. His rationale is, “Who needs wife and kids when you can sleep with a different prostitute every night?”
He recognizes Kaycie and calls out to her as he usual does.
“Kaycie, Kaycie, Kaycie,” he said, as he liked to say names in threes.
He plops down at the bar and gets right into his story telling for the night. He very matter of factly starts telling her about the Asian massage places in Sioux City that give out “happy endings.” He said the last massage place he went to asked him if he would liked one. He shelled out $100 and boom he received a happy ending indeed.
The story ended there, but he didn’t. He repeated himself for another hour and a half telling her, and anybody that would listen, the same story over and over again.
Although it might be annoying to listen to the same, weird old man tell his stories over and over for a couple of hours straight, Kaycie did get some entertainment out of it.
One of the other regulars paid their conversation a listening ear and started chiming in as well. The man was significantly younger than Pauly and wore boxy, plaid glasses. You could tell he was a total stoner, but he was funny to be around.
As he listened to Pauly’s story he started to chime in every time he repeated himself and make snarky comments. Pauly was always too dense to notice, so plaid glasses guy and Kaycie had a fun time making fun of him without Pauly even noticing.
Eventually, it came time for Kaycie to clock out and head back home for the day. Soon it’d be time to start the whole thing over again on Thursday.
A good character makes a good story. The oxygen tank is a nice detail.