Double Screwdriver Makeout Sunday

“Detroit Rock City” by Kiss played on the jukebox.

Two OTAs, a man and woman, sat together at the bar and drank double screwdrivers.

They had their hands all over each other.

I caught a drift of their conversation.

He had to go to work at 3:00 a.m. at a gas factory, so why not have another double screwdriver on a Sunday?

His girlfriend agreed.

The joint’s decor was unforgettable except for a painting of Scooby Doo drinking a martini on the wood paneling.

Whatever inspired this masterpiece of OTA art was lost to the Canadian mists of time.

I noticed an old wall telephone, red in color.

It was one of those ancient lines that connected directly to a cab company.

I would have given anything to listen in to one of those calls, say, from 1978,

after a night of Dylan Thomas drinking.

The drink special was a tequila sunrise Jello shot. $1.

The food special was a shrimp basket. $10.99.

A country song came on.

I’d never heard it before.

A lyric went, “Sheila, pour me another tequila.”

The OTA couple were sneaking kisses, copping feels.

The bartender emerged from behind the bar.

He was fishing kimchi out of a jar, eating it.

“Honky Tonk Women” by the Rolling Stones came on.

The bartender was eating kimchi with his hands, an OTA couple was making out while drinking double screwdrivers, and Mick Jaggar was singing about a gin-soaked barroom queen, snorting coke, and getting laid.

The door to the joint opened.

In walked a gnarled man with a cane wearing a blue ball cap two sizes too large for his noggin.

The bartender and the OTA couple greeted him with enthusiasm, called him Old Jack.

He was at least 200 years old.

Old Jack was told he was looking good.

“I’m always looking good,” he said.

He was asked why he hadn’t been around.

“I’ve been getting shitfaced at home,” he said.

He was told there had been concern for his welfare in his absence.

He grunted and bellied up to the bar.

The bartender asked if he wanted the usual.

Old Jack said, “Yes, the one and one.”

Seconds later Old Jack was drinking Jack Daniels Red on the rocks, chasing it with a pint of Budweiser and pickled egg.

“All Along the Watchtower” by Bob Dylan came on.

A half naked woman (homeless?) entered the joint carrying flowers in a dirty vase.

She placed the vase on top of a gambling machine,

ripped a fart,

slipped in some dollar bills,

and got to work.