The Village Pub

//the notes for this one are more scrambled towards the end than usual, may end up in gibberish //

So there I was, past midnight, sitting with one of the biggest beers they could offer at this bar. In one corner there were three men playing a version of pool or snooker that I couldn’t recognize. Hell, it just involved three balls and no pockets. On the other side, the rest of the middle-aged “townsmen” were standing. Or around the Old-timer coin slipper watching the fruits spin or semi-drunk talking about past drunk experiences and the responsibilities that go with them.

The saltshaker for my tequila was nice and funny. Shaped like a Corona bottle.

All honest to goodness people, with the looks that would go with what they probably are. 

Men, Dutch men from a near city village.

Hell, I need to get my nose in some speed and that LSD business seems tempting for a night.

    Good Doctor, what have you done to me… hehehe

Anyway, as I was sitting here on my own lonely arse, writing these words, thinking how stupid it is that I don’t share a talk with them.

                    Well…see ya in five?

Well… I still don’t understand a fuck about this game.

The basics are that you have to touch the three bands of the table…but for the rest…it’s a mystery. 

But I learned something about the three players from an ed more of them…after 20 years they visibly old. And something about their jobs. On is a French mauer and the others are a something unknown or forgotten…

                    Fucked up game…

                        It is…            

God damn. One lives next to the church though.