Mapped Out

Fairfax & Glew Flash Fiction

The sign for Gil’s Bar & Grill buzzed to life. Snowflakes fell in the January sky but to no accumulation. They just swirled around in here and there, like a hundred different skirmishes and all the while, the “Gil’s” sign poured its light over the various battles, watching like an old general with far too much time on his hands.

Inside, Glenn the Friend strode down the bar to two brand new patrons. He slowed and pointed to the baseball caps on their heads- Cubs on one and Bears on the other. “Look at that. Two of Chicago’s best. Am I right?”

Cub watched him.

Bear said, “Wow. What gave us away? The caps?”

Glenn shrugged. “And I heard you talking. There’s nothing like a Chicago accent, I’ll tell ya.”

Cub and Bear looked at each other.

Glenn wiped the bar off. “What can I get you fellows? Old Fashioneds?”

Cub studied Glenn.

Bear gave Glenn a “maybe” look.

Glenn mixed up a couple of Old Fashioneds and set them down.

Cub sniffed the drink.

Bear sipped his drink. Then he took a long swallow and said, “Whew. Not bad for Tennessee.”

Cub took a long drink of his own. “Hey, not bad at all.”

Glenn spread his hands. “Hey, it’s the least I can do for you fellows. You got the best baseball and the best pizza. Speakin’ of which, you fellows hungry?”

Cub and Bear grinned a lot more and commented on the Blackhawks game on the TV. Glenn agreed and cheered on the Blackhawks with them. He took a shot of Old Fahsioned with them and then slapped the bar. “I’ll tell you what, fellows. A couple of Chicago dogs. What do you say?”

Cub and Bear smiled at each other. “Hell yeah. Damn, you’re the man. Glenn. Right?”

Glenn shook their hands with full-on wrist-grab and strong shake each and then high-fived them.

Bear said, “A couple more Old Fashioneds?”

Glenn pointed at them. “You got it, fellows.”

Glenn got them their drinks and then told the other bartender to watch them. He want into the back and dug in the freezer and found a pack of all beef franks and then cooked them and dressed them with mustard and pickles and tomatoes and all the good Chicago toppings and he even found some poppy seed buns and made them pretty. Then the yelling started.

Glenn made his way back out to the bar.

Cub and Bear now stood up, in each other’s faces. Cub pointed his finger in Bear’s face and said, “My grandfather gave me that watch. Now turn it over.”

Bear huffed. “I didn’t take it. You think everybody wants your watch. They don’t.”

Cub slapped the bar. “Give it back and nobody gets hurt.”

Bear threw his hands up and looked at Glenn. “What’s with this guy? Everytime we go out, he loses that thing and then he wants to fight over it.” He turned back to Cub. “You do this on purpose, man. Your big Swiss watch, like that’s all that matters. Like you could find Switzerland on a map. You’d keep it put up if you had any sense.”

Cub spun his cap back around backwards on his head and put up his hands in a fighting position. “Let’s go.”

Glenn set the dogs down and said, “Aw, come on, fellows. Better eat these dogs while they’re hot. We’ll find your watch, man.”

Bear threw his hands up and then resumed his seat on the stool.

Cub paused.
Glenn poured them another Old Fashioned each and one for himself. He held it up. “Come on, fellows. What do you say?”

Cub breathed. He resumed his own seat and then sipped the drink and plowed into the dog.

Glenn went around and searched the floor around them and had the other bartender conduct his own search. They searched the bar and back behind it and they looked under nearby tables. Between the drinks and the dogs, Cub and Bear got calmed down. Glenn served more drinks and a few hours later, Cub decided he left it at the hotel room. Glenn wiped a few drinks off their tab and they swore that he was the best damn bartender Tennessee ever produced, which sounded kind of like a compliment.

Glenn the Friend left the pawn shop the next afternoon, wearing a big smile and later that night, he found Switzerland on a map.