His Old Lady

Posted: October 27, 2014 in Uncategorized

The bartender was curled up in the doorway of his own place like he was some kind of wino instead of the guy who wrote the schedules and signed the checks. He was muttering to himself when the delivery guy found him. Something about an old motorcycle parked outside the bar last night. The guy who used to ride it went missing something like thirty years ago. The bike looked like someone had dragged it there from a scrapyard. The missing guy was on it with the bartender’s wife – – both of them dead. The guy wasn’t much more than bones after so many years. The bartender’s wife was still fresh. The delivery guy looked for it, but the bike and his wife with it, were gone. So was the bartender’s sanity.


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