Fragment: The Devil Walks Into A Bar

The Devil Walks Into A Bar

The cheaper the drinks, the stranger the clientele.

That is just one of the many unspoken laws in the world of bartending.

For most of the world, that meant dive bars tended to attract more drifters, homeless, criminals trying to lie low, and unfortunate souls looking to drink their pain away.

But there are... certain locations scattered throughout the world where, on occasion, things that should not be, wander through the door. Gods, spirits, and monsters plucked straight from the darkest recesses of human imagination who temporarily set aside their differences upon entering the sanctuary that is a tavern. Their first dozen or so appearances are always a shock to the newly anointed staff-- especially to those that were not warned of the possibility. But as long they fulfill their duties as barmen -keeping their glasses full, peanuts and pretzels in easy reach, and offering a sympathetic ear for their problems- they can expect no trouble from their supernatural guests, and more importantly: a big tip.

A good bartender at one of these establishments can retire in their early forties. And with a little bit of luck, as was the case of a grad student who served Tyche, their early twenties.

On paper it's a good gig. One that requires little effort, has lots of downtime, broadens the mind, and has amazing pay.

But, there is one thing that scares off new hires. A story they laugh off at first as superstition, but grows in the back of their minds as they encounter more-and-more of the otherworldly, forcing them to question its validity.

And that is a visit from the Devil himself.

The story goes that Old Scratch will be the last to enter the bar for the night, when the room is nearly empty and only the lowest of lowlifes remain passed out on their stools. He'll then sit down directly across from whomever is tending, almost daring them to tell him he's too late for last call. If they have the faintest inkling of common sense, they'll simply do their job and listen as he unburdens himself of his troubles. He'll drink a few rounds, pay his tab in full, and leave with the rising of the sun. If he was satisfied with the service, the tip he leaves will be enough to start an empire. If he's not, well... no one can say exactly what happens then.

And unfortunately, she had the very real possibility of finding out.

It was a hot, still night in the middle of July. The kind of night that taxed the bar's small air conditioner and forced all but the most loyal of drunks to venture out for a drink. No one had bothered to turn on the ancient jukebox, as it was far too hot and humid for any kind of music to be enjoyable, making the shrill cry of cicadas and the scant late night traffic of the highway above the only sounds to be heard, save for a lone patron's frequent tapping signaling for another round.

Truthfully, it was a night not out of the ordinary. One of many where she found herself yearning for California's moderate winter, and promising her godly patrons that she would never curse the colder temperature again in exchange for even the smallest of breezes.

And as the antique Blue Moon clock rolled over to three, that was when he made his appearance.

His arrival was heralded by a tense silence descending over the bar; the insects ceasing their calls and the traffic seemingly disappearing. And just when she registered that all she could hear was her own rapidly increasing heartbeat, the wooden floorboards let out a woeful groan and the bell above the door rang twice as the faded wooden thing swung upon.

And her breath hitched and she nearly dropped the glass she had been drying at the sight of her newest customer.

At first glance, he appeared rather unremarkable. A pale man in his mid to late twenties, with greasy slick-backed red hair, wearing a battered and weathered lab coat. If the bar would have been a bit livelier, she would have just assumed he was one of the many stressed out graduate students that frequented the place looking to blow off steam. But when he took his first step, and his right leg momentarily lost its form, she was forced to examine him closer.