Oregon Tavern Age: Carrot Curry Soup

Rain fell. So did leaves.

Inside my local, somewhat OTA dive, a man worked remotely while drinking double vodka sodas. What he did, I didn’t know. He probably didn’t either.

I stood at the bar. Crap 90s soft alt rock played. One player worked the slots.

Two men sitting on stools discussed the relative merits of acid and ecstasy. They discovered they were both raised Mormon and high fived.

The female bartender greeted me. I ordered a Guinness. She cracked open the can and made a perfect pour. An Black OTA man asked what the beer was. I told him. He’d never heard of it. He ordered one.

I dig this bartender, She’s an expert mushroom (not magic) forager and has staked out special secret spots all over Oregon and Washington. She also prepares homemade soup every Thursday that she serves up free to anyone who wants a bowl.

It was a Thursday. She asked me if wanted some soup. Today’s concoction: carrot curry soup. Vegan. Basil garnish.

Of course I wanted soup! Who doesn’t want a homemade carrot curry soup in a dive bar?

I took the Guinness and soup to my usual table. I started writing an absurd short story loosely based on absurd chapters of my life. I suspect two people will read it, but not the two people who should read it.

The Guinness went down silky smooth. The soup tasted incredible and contained a spicy peanut kick.

As for the writing, it rolled out totally absurd.