The Amazing Tales of Groomigan

Chapter 7

      So Mr. Haar is going with us? I must say, I'm surprised. He's been avoiding me all day. I honestly didn't expect this from him. I wonder if he will be drinking, as well. He doesn't seem like the type to drink. 

      Searching around the apartment, I find a pair of faded blue jeans. I throw a random shirt on, and put on my sneakers. I popped by the bathroom mirror, to make sure that my hair looks decent. A piece of hair was sticking up, making it look like I just woke up or something. I turn on the tap, wetting my hands. Brushing my hair through my hands, I sleek my hair back into place. Good. Leaving the bathroom, I glance at the clock near the 'kitchen'. 

       7:53pm. I have seven minutes. Thank goodness. I have time to find my jacket. I had it by the door, but I must've put it somewhere.

        I looked through the whole living room, not finding a trace of it. Desperate, I begin searching the bedroom. 

       Where did I put it? I look back at the clock. 7:59. There's a knock at the door.

       "One moment!" I call out. Where have I been since I got home? Oh! I rush to the bathroom, immediately spotting my jacket on the sink.

       I pull in on, as I open the door to the apartment. "About time." Mr. Anderson chuckled. "Come on."

       I lock the apartment door on the way out, before jogging to ketchup(lol) to Mr. Anderson. I climbed into the back seat of the SUV, next to another guy. What was his name?

       The drive to Mr. Haar's was pretty quiet, except Mr. Anderson's rants and jokes. A laugh was shared every now and then, but it always settled back into an awkward silence. I guess it's not such a great idea to cramp a bunch of grown men into a car.

      We pulled up to Mr. Haar's house. Mr. Anderson honked the horn, and moments later Mr. Haar was coming out of the front door of his house. It's so strange to see him in casual clothes. Even if they were still nice clothes. He opened the back door, and I scooted over so he could fit in. 

       "You sure, you don't want the window seat?" He asked.

        "Doesn't matter to me." I shrugged. He copied the action, piling into the car, and I immediately regretted not switching places with him. The term 'squished' was appropriate, right about now. My shoulder's were pushed towards each other, while the two surrounding me had space for at least one of their shoulders.

        Who's bright idea was it to smash five grown men into one car? Do I smell cologne? That wasn't here before. Is Mr. Haar wearing it? It smells good, though. So, no complaints here.

        The trend of awkward silence and bad punny jokes, continued until we reached the bar. Finally.

         Mr. Haar was the first out of the car, immediatly opening the door as soon as we pulled in. The car wasn't even fully stopped. My shoulder's felt relieved to have their natural form again. And if my shoulder's are happy, I'm happy.

          I examined the front of the bar. It doesn't seem like a bad place. I wonder what kind of alcohol they have. I followed the other's in. We took our place at the bar, and suddenly the awkward atmosphere dissipated.

         This doesn't seem too bad.