Rum Springer

Published by Chicago Literati in Aug. 2015 for their fiction issue.

I debuted this story at Fictlicious at the Hideout in Chicago on July 16, 2013.

We felt like we were living amidst a joke: so these two Amish guys walk into a bar… . Our conversations tapered off to confusion and silence as soon as those two walking anachronisms wandered into Piggie’s Pub and took stools in front of where Piggie himself was manning the taps. They wore navy trousers and starchy white shirts buttoned all the way to the collar, suspenders and stiff black hats that they laid carefully on the bar in front of them. One sported a thick, fuzzy chinstrap beard like a strip of carpet ringing his jaw, while the other only managed a wispy peach fuzz goatee.

Piggie asked them what they wanted, and despite the fact that they had deliberately walked into a bar, we couldn’t believe ourselves when they asked for a beer. When he pressed them as to what kind, they shrugged their shoulders. “We will have whatever is your favorite,” one said. Piggie poured them a pair of Yuenglings, and we glanced at each other with cocked eyebrows and crinkled noses. They clinked their glasses together and took a long drink, wiping the bubbly foam off their lips with the crisp cuffs of those stiff white shirts that now glowed electric blue under the neon. “It is good, sir,” the one with the beard said.

Read the full version at Chicago Literati.


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