That Unhappy Bloke

He sat there in the corner, face all miserable and drawn, as quiet as can be. He shielded his jack daniels and coke, like a dog over his new found bone. Hunched over the bar, he would occasionally drop the odd scowl to a nice lady or pleasant gentlemen who attempted to make small-talk. Every so often he would tap the side of the empty glass, loud enough for the poor barmaid, to acknowledge and refill, without uttering a word to him. A nod of the head or a hefty swig of the drink was enough to show his gratitude.  He was the epitome of misery and hatred. 

I guess the staff there had grown accustomed to him, after all he did seem a regular, every friday night me and my friends would come here to this quaint yet pleasant bar. There was no trouble. In the corner there was a delightfully antique yet tuned piano but never used. That and some booths stood in the smoking area. Around the corner pass the bar and the miserable old man there was a little garden, some benches, more ash-trays and some shrubs on the shelf. The place was typical for the social gathering of elderly men or women, who had become set in their ways and decided to make a weekly visit to this pub, which was bursting with character. That was everything apart from the miserable old man. 

The company was old but good, everyone seemed to have their stories to tell, one gentlemen was a music enthusiast and would always be playing his favourite songs on the little jukebox, mostly status-quo and he would ramble on about the time that he met them. The barmaid, older but good-looking, would always exchange flirtatious comments. Me and my friends would always have a good banter going between us with her, it was fun. We would dare each other to go up and ask for her number or go and get some-one to order a goldschlaeger and get the women to ring the bell. This amused us, everyone it seemed apart from this miserable old man. 

After a good night out, we would go home all in home spirits glad that it was the weekend. This place seemed to make us forget about the mundane week that we had and even the week ahead of us. Messing around in the streets on the way home, he would foolishly try and prod each other into oncoming cars or find more beer to down before our scheduled taxi. We would go home, rest and have pleasant dreams, we were  happy..... all apart from this miserable old man. 

The End

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