$3 Makers
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Three stools down, to my right, is John. He won't drink it if it's not Absolute, he informs me. Next to John is a nameless man, hands stained with paint, who came in with him. He's on the phone apologizing for a septic tank that's backed up. He'd installed it last month. To my left is another John, white and beardless and old and leathered. He's driven a truck the last twelve years. Half the time while drunk, he says, but he's never had a ticket, he says, and that's the trick, he says, but he never says to what. I'm in the middle but not in between, and that's important. They've got the radio on:...
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