Some people (like this reporter) have to find stories, and some people have stories come to them.
Put Duke McSlurpeedoo into that latter camp.
The free-pouring Boston bartender says that in his 41-year career of serving libations, he’s “heard it all and seen it all–– swear to Pete!”
This reporter perched on his stool, finished his drink, poised pen to pad and asked the handsome bartender to elaborate.
“Oh, you know,” the barkeep said, slowly wiping his altar with a damp towel, “I’ve seen this, heard that.” This scribe leaned in and asked for details. “You wouldn’t believe the shenanigans I’ve seen,” the wily mixmaster clucked, “but they’re really something.”
The Lint Screen journalist was working up a thirst and ordered another four fingers of rotgut, neat. “Do tell,” he encouraged the bottle jockey.
“Man, oh, man, you and your readers wouldn’t believe the things I’ve witnessed behind this bar,” the booze tipper crowed. “Stuff that would curl your hair and make you slap your mother into tomorrow. Yes, sir!”
This grizzled hack slugged back his liquid lunch and asked for a repeat. “Some details would be nice,” he said.
“It’s unbelievable what I’ve seen,” the hootch-slinger cooed as he poured. “You would not believe me if I told you.”
“Try me,” The scribe said as he thrust the drink down his hatch, the rotgut burned its way to the belly.
“I’ve seen scandalous stuff. All sorts of sordid affairs. More dirty laundry than a cruise ship.”
“What, exactly?”
“Hijinks. Hijinks to beat the band. Seeds for scandals galore.”
“Do the bump again, and pour me a tall cold one,” the keyboard hunter slurred. The liquor pusher shook his head from side to side as he prepared the drinks and set them in front of the news nose. The Pulitzer-poser gave his libation glasses the ol’ Houdini. “Tell me somethin’, dammit,” he said as he rose up off his stool, stumbled, and smashed his noggin on the bar on his way to the floor.
He bled.
Duke McSlurpeedoo shook his head, wiped his bar and said, “Yep, I’ve seen it all, I guess.”
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