Funny Time In The Night

by Reynaud

I am making funny time in this bars of Lawrence in the night. I am accompanying for this “Jay”, who is something (the explosion in the head). I think he is knowing some devils and this devils are dressing in funny costume. And this too I must say: this “Jay” is the WHITE man. Like the milk, with the black hairs upon. In the night, his face is the moon. We are going for some bars to make “review”. Before, I have make copywriting. I am not knowing one reason but for this “Jay” is buying some drink.

We make observation of many thing: le terroir (the taste of what it is); the taste of drinks, with this value and the “buzz”; le clientele (how they are); and how nice are the ones who are working. If you are making the note, it must be the spy (say nothing!). Mister Matt Helm. I confess it: I am not liking so much now Poirot. I am liking “Columbo” (this Matlock is sucking). We are sometime making the conversations, sometime making the STARE. This “Jay” is not making so good the “tip”. (In a bar, a woman is mad.)

“Review” of Bar no.1: THE JAYHAWKER

I have discover this bar in a crazy hotel. Some Cow Boys are walking in there. They are regarding for long time “Jay Holley”. They speak that he is one “peach”. I urge the changement of locale. The bar is dark in this lurid place and so there, it is better. First I see your President Lincoln- do you remember? The bills you have to pay? He is over the bar. And so next I am noticing music: a boom-boxe. Like the Gil-Scott-Heron. You dingo! (Jay Holley make demand for “The Cure”). This bartendress—this barwoman is controlling the boom-boxe. She is a couch. Big, with the sandstone JAW. And the STARE. No fucking with.

“What do you want?”, the refrigerator speaks.

“One scotch. Please with soda.”

(Jay Holley is asking for the FOO-FOO: The Pina Colada.)

And now again come the Cow Boys seeking Jay Holley. They taunt and yet they are fun to touch each other—this is the way of the Kansas Cow Boy. They observe the PINA COLADA. Hahaha. Cow Boy. (I am drinking the scotch, therefore careless.) The boom-boxe play The Ramones, Cretin Hop; the soundtrack of regrettable taunting. The Cow Boys are saying more bad things.

And so, eventually: Jay Holley enrage. Even this couch, this appliance bartender, she too enrage. (She remove the nose chain).

The Cow Boys—the Bud Lites—are fool to engage Missus Refrigerator and the Young One. Jay Holley is tall, and low in balance—I think it is referred as: equilibrium. And the sofa-sized bitch at the bar is Bad. Then, there results some COW BOY ASS-KICKING. Ding Dong! The Compton Kung Fu! (It does not take long.) The Cow Boys, after, they whimper and limp; they run to the door, and therefore pretend the macho, outside, sidewalking.

Piss off.

Then there is free drink. Yes, the couch is buying, with wrinkle money from the TIP JAR. Jay Holley proclaim this the compliment supreme. The couch she kiss my mouth. I taste Buffalo Bob. Jay Holley must talk the shit, long time, gesticulating. He is full of the HEROISME, and the LARGESSE: saying kindly things he can never ever recall.

COW BOY ASS-KICKING. RAMONES. SCOTCH WHISKEY. LARGESSE.

And so: therefore, I condemn the JAYHAWKER as one GOOD BAR. There, do not be cheap (a warning).

(And, for funny time in the night, do not be amongst “Jay Holley”). Hallo Jenny O, and this Regan (if you are not gone). Monkeyhead! And one leek risotto!

I report, with love;

R.

You Might Consider Visiting

Our Online Shop

or

Let Me Tell of My Love of Pigeons »

« How You Might’ve Found Johnny America #4: October, 2003