#AOoP: Out Of Place

[after-out-of-place]

Prologue: Out Of Place After Dark

For all it was worth, which did not seem like a lot from the outside, the bar going by the name of 'Out Of Place' was a typical dive bar in San Bearino: hardly any advertisement; a single neon sign out front; no real food but light snack-food (the pretzels were overly salty to sell more drinks); and a frightening amount of branded alcoholic beverages mostly being sold at a price which seemed like you were practically stealing from the place.

What truly set the Out Of Place apart, however, was its absolute commitment to presenting guests with an extremely noisy aesthetic - a cacophony of anachronistic visuals (a cacorama, if you will) - made up out of several types of neon lighting; a wind-up grandfather clock; a coin-operated jukebox; saloon doors and at least one marble statue wearing tacky sunglasses. (There had been shag carpeting on parts of the wall at one point, but it had been deemed a 'fire hazard, what were you thinking', and thus it got replaced by two thick layers of paint and a rather gaudy piece of graffiti artwork depicting a facsimile of the building inspector with an extra set of horns. It begrudgingly got approved.) In addition to all of that, there was a small raised stage in the back, barely big enough for a six-man band.

It's here that Bubble-Glub found that they were the most at home and had been working in for a good number of years now: the owner hadn't been fussy about hiring them, even joking that their cold hands would be beneficial for serving drinks, and allowed them to keep their tips in addition to the payment (which was a living wage, but how much life does one truly have running late shifts?). Not the worst job; not the worst aesthetics Bubble-Glub had ever seen in their life; and most patrons didn't seem to care about anything as long as their glasses were full and their voices heard. The 'Out Of Place' had charm, somehow. ******

A good, strong while had gone by without major events, save for patrons in need of a lesson or two in what constitutes 'proper conduct' and a frankly bizarre string of events which led to a tab being paid off with a single coin; a pair of dice and a firm handshake - though outside of that, one event in particular did liven up the place: when DD entered the Out Of Place for the first time, and for whatever reason decided to keep coming back.

DD's dive into the Out Of Place had not gone unnoticed, to say the least, and neither had her leaving with particular guests with large tabs they could've easily paid off but never bothered to. Some nights, however, she had stuck around until closing time - and afterwards. At first it seemed like she forgot to read the time, but as the long time and nights passed the two hit it off relatively well and it became 'sort of their thing': Bubble-Glub would go through the motions of closing down and cleaning up, DD not being allowed to help out with the smaller chores even if she would have wanted to. "It's a liability thing." said Bubble-Glub, "Plus, those long nails ain't helping." "Well, don't think I didn't notice the free drinks." "On the house. I decide what my tips are for." "Pff."

****** The nights passed into whiles, passing into weeks and into stretches of time fewer than half a decade but definitely longer than a year - time seemed to pass differently in the Out Of Place, or maybe that's simply what good company does to people. DD had come in later than usual and had decided to stick around until after closing time, leaving Bubble-Glub to strike up casual conversation without the radio or other people interrupting. "Sharp eyes can't help but notice the angles at which you're sitting. Shoulder hurt?" "Eh. Long night." "There's also plasters on your fingers. What's going on?" "You're not allowed to ask that." was her response. Even if they hadn't meant it, it was rather rude of them to inquire about what a lady's fingers had been busy with this evening, she decided. "Hey, if something's up I gotta know." "Fine," she rolled her eyes. "I've been learning bass. Make sense now?" "Ah, yeah, that tracks." Bubble-Glub started stacking some of the chairs to make sweeping the floor easier for themselves. Their bioluminescent glow mixed poorly with the neon lights. "Oh dang, guess that means the lady's jamming now?" "And what if I am?" she hopped off the bar-stool. "Hey, there's a stage here. It's quiet. Ain't nobody judging." "You." "I wouldn't dare."

[gameknightrvws]

via Buffer

[after-out-of-place]

Slick Soliloquy

Today was supposed to be different. The name's Grr'glegolyb - though most folks call me Bubble-Glub. I intentionally ended up deep below the surface of San Bearino. What's not intentional is being in the back of a rail maintenance vehicle, with the windows smashed and the lights turned off - think those got damaged by the same thing that caused the tunnel behind us to collapse. The windows sure were. This ain't exactly the kind of situation an ex-bartender slash musician slash manager slash impromptu duck whisperer would find themselves in on any day - hell, the least strange thing about today is having DD in my lap, her arms around my waist and her head on my shoulder. ******

The day began in 'Our Place': it's a quiet coffee corner, doing its Sunday best to blend a dark academic vibe with dark roasted coffee beans. At least that's my take on it. I ain't much a morning person, but the familiarity of the two lovebirds running the place gives me time to reflect on my own life in the present. That, and a cup of coffee so strong you practically have to wrestle the liquid in the hopes of it giving you the boost you're looking for. It's just how I like it.

All of the crew were around that morning. Dee had some time after dropping her sister off at the University - Dee's been sticky with me ever since the whole thing with CC happened - not that I'm complaining, as both a slime-folk and her main squeeze. It did make the events of that morning far more bitter than the coffee I'd been wrestling with, however: she wasn't supposed to see me like that - hell, none of 'em were. It still strikes me as odd to have folks care so deeply; to have them look further than skin-deep and not recoiling once they do.

The new advertisement on the billboard outside hurt in all kinds of ways, with the sort of sickly buzzing neon letters usually reserved for a dive bar making sure every man, woman, in-between and beyond be aware of the Mūci|agenIX - "a mall of the ages past, present and future!" - with the new location being in an old district of San Bearino. That's in my old stomping grounds, as it were. I hadn't been there in ages, but the idea of some slick CEO bulldozing a slice of history like that made me sick to my soul. I had to go there. Alone. I'm the kinda person who deals with their own mess in their own time, always have been, and the way my composure slipped that morning like a slick porcelain cup from between my fingers to shatter on the cold floor below still bothers me.

I didn't tell 'em the why. It's a personal matter, the kind of trouble reserved for only one pair of shoulders to carry. But as it turns out, if the person with the most chill suddenly loses it all from looking at a bright neon sign, it doesn't jive with any of the crew. I could tell it bothered Dee the most - we'd been working on some things, together, but I'm not ready to make those slender shoulders do any heavy lifting after what happened back on her home turf. I know deep down that DD can handle herself, it ain't her I'm the most worried about.

None of them budged: I'd asked them repeatedly whether they'd want to hang back and sit this one out. Wallace had the shortest, most clear answer: a swiftly raised pair of middle fingers. He's a clever kid, knows I'm used to talking to birds.

Still hadn't told them the why. They'd stopped asking once I finally led them out there and to an old access tunnel to the underground. Or rather, they never asked - I told them it was a personal thing and they respected that boundary. In all the years I've been around I didn't stop to think that sort of trust existed, let alone between the most eclectic bunch of folks I've had the pleasure of being friends with. Not that yours truly ain't an odd duck, themselves.

I retraced my steps through the old stomping grounds, and under them. Muscle memory, for as far as that carries one such as myself. Plenty of memories to go off of, some more faded than others. Forgotten memories make way for new ones - much like new life, plant and otherwise, growing under the threat of becoming corporate sludge trapped under a new mall. To that extent, turns out the ratfolk had been busy with corpo sabotage, delaying the mall being built - they're good folk, similar interests to mine outside of music. They ain't much for jazz. Or the band in general. We'd have been at a impasse if it hadn't been for the note from … Well. That's personal. ******

I'd have called the rail maintenance vehicle a blessing in disguise - but it'd have been left to rot if it'd just been myself. Also happens to be that more than one machine down underground still had juice in it. I should've figured, that green glow didn't match mine. That mechanical squid thing must've been built to level the place from the inside-out - it sure tried. The only thing it got good was the vehicle. Deep down I'm glad none of the band sat this one out. I guess I'd call them all a blessing in their own right: they've all got their unique merits. Turns out that both Wallace and Sila can damn near drive anything that moves; Chritty's resourceful as all hell; Horace continues being the best button-pusher this side of San Bearino; and DD … DD's got one hell of a set of vocal chords on her (It's one of her better features, but admittedly not the one I pay the most attention to).

If neither of them had been around, chances are I'd not be in the back of this vehicle. Sure, the lights are off. Sure, the windows are smashed and there's glass all over the place. And yeah, the tunnel behind us collapsed under the weight of a mechanical monstrosity dumb enough to smash the very tunnel it's in. But DD's in my lap, her arms around my waist and her head on my shoulder. The band's all here.