Lost in Lostine

LOST IN LOSTINE BY LOREN CLEMENTS ________________________________________ In the hardened manner to which he’d grown accustomed, Lanky Lawson made his tavern entrance. Earlier arrivals could only stare, mouths agape as Lanky approached the well-worn bar. Tension hung in the air as he pondered his next move. He looked around the smoke filled room one more time, spit out something that was in his mouth and turned back to the bar. “Do you serve beer here?” asked Lanky. The crowd gasped, then a hush. The steely-eyed bartender continued to wipe down the bar and slowly moved toward Lanky. She stopped and finally looked up at Lanky with steely-eyes and said, “It’s a tavern ain’t it?” The crowd murmured. The bartender continued to stare at Lanky and Lanky stared outside. After what seemed like an eternity, Lanky said, “Well, I’ll take one then.” The silence was broken, the tension was cleared, and the others in the bar went back to their own affairs. The calm didn’t last long, however, as the steely-eyed bartender countered Lanky’s proposal with: “What kind?” Lanky’s quick thinking partner gasped, then a hush as he knew that more than once this query had been a stumper for Lanky. He held his breath hoping that Lanky would answer correctly and in a timely manner. “MGD,” was Lanky’s reply. “We ain’t got…M-G-D,” the steely-eyed bartender replied slowly, leaning on the counter. She deliberatly edged closer to Lanky, thrusting her chin toward him in a fashion that suggested she was daring him to try once more. “Uh…uh,” Lanky was stammering. He’s starting to lose his cool thought his quick thinking partner. “We’ll take a couple of Blitz-Weinhards,” said his partner, thinking quickly. “Yeah, that sounds mighty fine,” said Lanky as he, oblivious to the tension he had created, headed off toward the restroom. Lanky’s quick thinking partner could only shake his head as Lanky wandered off. “Another day like yesterday, and the day before….and tomorrow,” he thought. Returning from the restroom with cheeks aglow, and obviously the happiest person in the Lostine Tavern, Lanky said, “I think the bartender likes me.” “Yes, yes she does,” replied Lanky’s quick thinking partner. “She likes you as much as she likes workin’ in a smoky tavern fer 50 years and getting nowhere with her life or her health. By this time, Lanky was playing with a small burlap bag he’d found on the bar and was paying no attention to his quick thinking partner’s intelligent humor. “Hey check this out!” Lanky giggled with glee. “Ya squeeze this here thing and it sounds like a cat squallerin’ in a burlap bag! Ain’t that somethin’?” As Lanky ran off to the restroom again, the steely- eyed bartender approached the quick thinking partner. “What’s his deal?” she asked. “Don’t rightly know, but he allus means well an’ he’s got a good heart. Ya just gotta give him a chancet.” “Well, I’ll give him a chancet to buy one a them fake cats in a bag fer sixteen bucks. I wanna get rid of them damn things.” “Ya know, I think he really likes ‘em so ya got a fair chance fer a sale.” The bartender silently slid away as Lanky returned. “I jest cain’t get over that cat squallerin’ in a bag like ‘at. I gotta find out where I can git one o’ them.” “I know where ya kin git one a them,” said the steely-eyed bartender as she re-approached. “I got some right here in this box fer sixteen bucks each! But I’ll give ‘er t’ ya fer fifteen!” “I’ll take one!” cried Lanky. “I can’t believe it!” After they swilled another couple of Blitz-Weinhards and the quick thinking partner left the steely-eyed bartender a handsome tip. The duo headed for the exit. Lanky moseyed out first, as was his habit, and his quick thinking partner glanced back in time to hear the steely-eyed bartender say, “Good luck! Looks like you’ll need it.” And she went back to wiping the bar for another 50 years. Outside, Lanky was still overjoyed at his good fortune. “See I told you she likes me, “ he said. “Yep,” replied his quick thinking partner, “She likes you as much as she likes being stuck with a box full o’ cats in a bag that she ain’t ever gonna sell.” Smiling and clutching his “squallerin’” cat, Lanky backed the truck onto the highway and then began steering it towards the next tavern. To find out if it serves beer.