A few months ago (on facebook) I asked what people would like me to write about, well the feed back was interesting and ranged from Dwarf porn, well to Dwarf porn and included alcohol, boozy nights, sex and violence. This is the first part of my humble offering (and yes I Know I've taken my sweet time about it - I've been busy). Oh and in case your interested it's a spin off story from the prequel to my novel... Enjoy!
The Elle wasn't the pub’s real name but as long as anybody could remember that’s what it had been called. Located at the centre of town, the Elle was more like a village pub - if the village in question happened to be populated by Bikers, Goths, Metal-heads, Students and misfits. Tuesday nights were possibly the slowest night of the week in the Elle, sandwiched between Monday’s quizzes and Wednesday’s live music. It may have been a slow night but you could guarantee the usual selection of interesting locals would be in for a jar or two.
In fact Tuesday nights were so slow that the staff would draw straws to see who would work it, and tonight it was Harry's turn. He was new, well new-ish, Harry didn't know about the straws and so far found himself lumbered with every single, painfully slow Tuesday night shift. Tonight his co-star - recipient of the short straw - was Tori, the pub's assistant manager. She had been working here for a little over two years, originally from New Zealand she had set off to see the world, with her girlfriend Esther. Unfortunately she found out after they arrived in England that Esther was a “greedy-little- backstabbing-bisexual-bitch” who had decided to continue on her world tour with a Danish backpacker called Tomas. Leaving Tori heart-broken, penniless and in need of a job and somehow she had been here ever since. Compared to that Harry had very little to offer in life experience, at twenty three he had only just moved out of his parents home.
‘Anyway… this Dwarf walks into a bar - stop me if you've heard this one.’
‘Like this one you mean,’ she said.
‘What you’ve heard it?’
‘No… Harry you have a customer.’ Tori nodded her head in the customers’ direction. Blushing, he realises the customer struggling to climb onto the tall bar stool is in fact a dwarf.
‘Evening all!’ He says to all in ear shot.
The occupants of the bar all respond in kind.
‘Evening Arffur!’
‘Hi Arff!’
‘How you doing mate?’
‘Pint of Bishops’ please mate… Hi Tori how’re you tonight?’
‘I'm well thanks, what brings you out on a drizzly Tuesday night?’
‘I’ve had some relatives over and they've done my head in, so I slipped out for a quiet one.’
‘Here's your pint… Arthur is it? Nice to meet you, that'll be £1.80 please mate.’ Harry said cheerfully.
‘Cheers, and the name’s Mike by the way… don’t listen to these buggers, especially not that ugly sod sat next to me.’ indicating a large biker propping up the bar. ‘Raines here likes to have a little fun at my expense.’
‘Don't be like that Arffur, you know we love you!’
‘Yeah in a pub mascot sort of way… Ahh! But come the revolution my friend, just you wait and see.’
I feel my hand tighten around my glass, then it’s smashing Raines in the face, I give the glass a little twist to help it bite deep, planting a circular gash from the bridge of his nose to his chin. The glass shatters and blood spurts over my hand, Raines is screaming and falls from his stool onto the floor boards, pleading with me not to hurt him again, I wonder if he realises that he looks like one of the ‘Village People’. I slowly slide from my high chair – well I wouldn’t want to slip on all this blood now would I. The straight razor appears in my hand from out-of-nowhere, I open it, and catch my reflection on the steel. Looking down at Raines I smile, so much blood, where should I start I wonder…
‘What’s that? Sorry…’ Mike’s said distracted.
‘Why do they call you Arthur then…? I mean if it’s not to personal a question’ Harry spotting what he thought was a flash of anger in Mike’s eyes and started to regret asking the question.
‘No it’s not too personal; I’ve been in movies’.
‘What like the “Time Bandits”?’
‘Do I look fucking old enough to be a Time Bandit?’
‘Well…’ Harry was starting to wonder how he was going to dig his way out of this one.
‘You’re as bad as these pricks; it was made in nineteen-eighty-fucking-one for fucks sake’.
‘I didn’t mean… I wasn’t… Well no you don’t look that old,’ even as he said it Harry realised he had just made things worse.
The little prick doesn’t know what’s hit him; I leap from the bar top, slamming him into the ground. I sit on his chest and bash his head against the floor over and over ‘til something gives. His mouth is moving like he’s trying to speak, what’s that you say… you’re sorry, well that’s okay then. I make like I’m going to help him up and then I push his head into the slops bucket and hold it there, mmm blood and beer my favourite smells…
Tori also read the anger in Mike’s eyes, deciding to come to Harry’s aid asks him if he would go to the cellar and change a barrel. When Harry returned Mike had calmed down and was laughing with Tori.
‘Hey, new-guy sorry about that, I get a little wound up by these piss taking bastards… Bad day, you know how it is… What did you say your name was Henry was it?’
‘Harry’ replied Harry and Tori at the same time; she gave Harry a sly wink.
‘I saw that you little minx, not planning a crafty team change’, Mike laughed ‘Cause if you were I may have a little something for you.’
‘Mike you’re a bad boy… If you keep it up I’m going to have to bar you.’ Tori knew he was harmless but the odd threat would keep him in check.
‘Can’t a guy have his dreams,’ Mike got down off his stall and Harry seemed surprised that only the top of his scruffy black hair was visible at the bar ‘Right I’m off for a piss.’
‘Charming! You men… honestly.’
‘Don’t fall in!’ smirked Raines,
‘… and don’t let this prick spike my pint.’
‘Would I?’ Raines watched him leave, running his hand over his handle-bar moustache. The door from the bar to the toilets had barely creaked closed.
‘So…’ said Harry ‘Is someone going to tell me how Mike got the nickname Arthur?’
‘It’s not Arthur shit-for-brains… clean your lug ‘oles out… It’s R4’and with that gem of knowledge divulged Raines started to neck what was left of his pint.
‘Ahh for?’ Harry looked puzzled, ‘what like “Ah so”?’
Tori laughed, Raines spayed his lager like a fountain onto the bar.
‘You twat! I almost choked’ Raines said while shaking the excess lager off his hand, ‘sorry Tori, here pass me a towel love… where did you get this guy from?’
‘Oh Harry not “ahh for” it’s R 4’ Tori drew the letter and number in the air with a wave of her ringed fingers. She then went on to explain how it was a bit of a mean nick-name for Mike, as he had gone for the part of the lead Robot in the intergalactic blockbuster a couple of years earlier but was beaten to the role by his arch acting nemesis.
‘Oh what was his name Raines?’ Tori tapped herself on the head a few times, ‘was it Windsor Davis?’
‘What…’ Harry said ‘the one from “It Ain't Half Hot Mum” but he’s a big fella.’
‘Nah wasn’t him, but was definitely a “Windsor” somebody.’ Raines added.
‘So anyway’, Tori continued ‘to cut a long story short, if you pardon the pun, Mike’s Robot blew a fuse in one of the first scenes and Windsor’s “R4” went on to star in all the sequels and is now set for life… and these mean buggers, his so called friends, remind him of it every single time he comes in for a pint.’
‘A bit harsh maybe?’ said Harry.
‘But so very fair’, smiled Raines with an evil little glint in his eye.
When Mike returned to the bar he could tell at once they had been talking about him, he could see it written all over the new-guy’s face. Mike found urinating very relaxing; it was like his stresses just flowed away with all the steaming yellow piss. It had given him time to think and plot and plan, and now all he needed to do was get Raines and the new-guy back to his place and into his cellar, if he was especially lucky maybe Tori would come to. Mike struggled back onto his stool, flashed everyone a smile, and brought the three of them a drink.
‘I was thinking’, Mike started ‘If you fancy it how about coming back to mine after… I’ve got some home-made vodka, I made a Kiwi fruit one… we could crack that in your honour Tori!’
They all agreed it had been a good night - for a Tuesday, so why not continue, Mike smiled, that was easy he thought…
