It was Wednesday night, and the local dart league was finishing up. Howard Buckley sat at the bar in his normal spot, half watching the dart games, half watching his drink. He was never sure what his drink might tell him, but he watched it, nonetheless. Buck, as his friends called him, and they were few and far between these days, had been coming into the bar for as many years as anyone could remember. He was in his early 40s and, except for his liver, he was in pretty good shape. The years working construction had kept him fit and muscled. As he sat there listening to the dart players cheer on a good shot, or something, he didn’t really understand the game and didn’t really care to learn, he fell into a deeper and deeper funk.
His birthday was coming up, and that always brought him down. His family had never been big on celebrating birthdays, and now that he was alone, he didn’t see the point of even mentioning it to anyone. The bartender asked if he wanted another drink. “Might as well,” he said and downed the one he had been nursing. “This one had nothing to say. Maybe the next one will.” The girl behind the bar rolled her eyes and went to fix the drink.
Howard had been in the bar for some time now and was getting close to the point of being good and drunk. That was probably why he hadn’t noticed the old man come in and take the barstool next to him. When the bartender brought him his drink and sat one in front of the old man, Howard looked to see who was there. The man had to be in his 70s. He was dressed in a suite, complete with vest and bow tie, that looked like it could have come straight out of a Jules Verne novel. On his left lapel was a large pin. The pin had some type of symbols encircling what looked to Howard like a closed eye. The rest of the suit had other pins and buttons here and there.
Resting between the old man and Howard was an extremely ornate cane. It appeared to be made of black ivory. Of course, Howard had no idea what black ivory looked like, but that was the thought that came to him. The top of the cane was fashioned in the shape of some creature, a dragon perhaps? With all of that, it was the ridiculous top hat he was wearing which really caught Howard’s attention. It seemed taller than the top hats Howard had seen in pictures. There was a single peacock feather sticking out from the hatband, which was a deep green.
The hat was also covered with interconnecting gears. They look like they could actually move. What they could possibly do, Howard had no idea. Oh well, he thought, not my business, and he turned back to see if this new drink had something to say. He was a bit shocked when he heard a voice:
“It’s a hard world, this one. Wouldn’t you say?” It took Howard a second to realize it was the old man talking and not his drink. Great, he thought, One of these. “You work all those years, bust your arse and for what? No one even knows your birthday is just around the corner.”
“Yeah, it sucks.” Howard said, hoping the old man would hear the disinterest in his voice and shut up.
“Now as for me”, the old man continued, “I don’t put up with that kind of thing”. Howard noticed that the man had a slight accent. British? South African? He couldn’t quite place it, but it seemed to draw him in.
“I let everyone around me know when my birthday is near, and I always throw myself a party to celebrate. The only thing worse than getting another year older, and I’ve had a lot of years to think about this, is not getting another year older. Two more, please.” The old man signaled with a wave of his hand towards the bartender, “Oh and bring my friend and I a shot of your finest whiskey, please and thank you, my dear.”
Howard shook his head to get some of the cobwebs that were forming to break loose. He realized now that the old man had a friend on the other side of him that Howard had not noticed. He felt a little embarrassed that he had answered the old man the first time, but hoped that maybe he hadn’t heard. The bartender came back and sat a drink down in front of Howard and the old man and then pulled out two empty shot glasses and a bottle of whiskey and filled the empty glasses. The old man picked up his shot and held it towards Howard. “You look like a whiskey man”, he said and gestured for Howard to take the shot in front of him. Howard looked at the old man and thought, What the hell, free booze, and picked up the shot. The old man raised his and Howard followed suit.
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“Happy birthday,” he said and downed his shot. Howard downed his as well.
“Wow” he said, “That’s some good stuff, but it’s not my birthday.”
“It will be one day, this is for that day.” He gestured for the bartender and ordered two more. Howard started to wonder what the old man was up to. As the old man continued to talk of mundane things, how nice the bar was, how he had never been in this area before, how the locals seemed to be nice and kind people, Howard figured he was just an old man that wanted someone to talk to while getting drunk.
For the next hour or so, he chatted with the old man, or more realistically, listened to the old man ramble about the weather here compared to his home, the food, the scenery, the climate. All of it he compared to his home and for each, his home came out the better. That was fair. Most people think their home is the best place in the world. Why should the old man be any different? Howard looked down at his drink. How many was that? Four, five? And how many shots had the two of them had? Howard tried to think back and count up the shots. He lost track at five. There was another one in front of him. Howard started to sweat a little. Tomorrow is going to be hell, he thought as the old man grabbed his shot and gave another toast, urging Howard to drink up. He did, and his stomach started to complain.
“So, what about it?” the old man asked.
Howard realized that the old man had asked him a question, but he had no idea what it was. He looked at the old man, who was doing some sort of magic trick where he would blur and then there would be two of him and then the two would meld back together. “What about what?” Howard replied.
“I asked, if you could be anything you wanted, anything at all, what would it be? It doesn’t have to be something real, it could be anything. Something you have buried deep inside that you wish you could be.” The old man placed his elbow on the bar and rested his head on his fist, looking at Howard as though Howard’s answer would be the most interesting thing he had ever heard.
Howard looked at the old man for a second and then stared into his drink. He thought for a moment and then surprised himself when he realized he was giving an answer. “I want to be Bilbo. Well, not really Bilbo, I don’t want to be a hobbit. I want to be an adventurer in Middle Earth, or someplace like that. I mean, fighting goblins and hunting dragons. Saving people from marauding orcs. Now that would be something. I have worked all my life, and it has gotten me nothing. I have achieved nothing and have nothing to show for my time on this wretched planet. No one even knows, or cares, that I exist.”
“You want to be a hero?”
“Yeah, a hero, that’s it. And what’s wrong with that?”
“Not a thing, my friend,” the old man said, “not at thing”.
“I gotta piss,” Howard said and headed toward the bathroom, taking the zig-zag path. When he returned, there was another shot in front of his spot. Unsure if he could endure another one, he groaned. He patted his pockets and found his car keys. Howard took them out and put them on the bar. “Amy” he shouted louder than he intended, “take these will you. I’ll get an Uber home.” The bartender took his keys and put them behind the bar.
“Good idea,” the old man said. “You can’t be too careful. Now this is the last shot for the night. It’s a special one I had made up just for you.” He gestured towards the shot. “Go on, give it a try. It will change your life.”
Howard looked at the shot and thought, not for the first time tonight. What the hell, and downed the shot in one go. “What the fuck was that!” He shouted. “My god that tasted like feet. That might be the worst thing I have…” He was out before his head hit the bar. He had a rather hard head, so he didn’t suffer any real damage. The bar was also rather hard, so it didn’t suffer any damage either, though it did feel just a bit more pain than Howard would have had he been conscious.