Testicles, One, Two

It felt like a day, like any other day.  You know, get to the Mews, do my opening duties, ice, register, the old-rigmarole. Bands will soundcheck, you know, testicles one, two, I’ll pour drinks, bands will play, maybe say a few words in between, people will get tipsy, some drunk, feel good, vomit outside (hopefully) – not to say I over-serve, I try not to, and that always goes over well, cutting them off, sarcasm, right there, I clean up the bar, do the things I need to do, lock the doors, and drive home.

But nope.  This day is different. Significantly different.

I go into the women’s bathroom, to stock the paper towels, the toilet paper, what I do at the beginning of each night, but what do I see, in the women’s stall, when I open the creaky door?

A TOILET PAPER HOLDER!!!  Glory Halleluia!!  I’ve been working for ten long years, a fricking decade, and we have NEVER HAD a toilet paper holder.

This is a day. A beautiful day. A day I will never forget.

I walk out of the stall, feeling like I just won the lottery.

It’s the little things in life. Like a fresh cut lime in your Tanqueray Tonic, that matters so much.

From my heart to yours,

Clint Curtis. Bartender.


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