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Showing posts from July 13, 2015

Vaughn, Laslow, and John, Drinking at Agatha Bean's

In the middle of it's lot sharing time with some loose gravel sits the apex of all squandered pretenses further squandering itself. In the 20's Agatha Bean's was a white shuttered shack with false lanterns tacked up beside it's front door. Ever since Agatha's lost it's lanterns the cubby brick shack has been painted not-white about as often as any not-white could be had. But it's front door has remained as black as pitch-drizzle. Betta, the old lady that owns the place also owns the filling station a few blocks away. Bud and LU live there when the weather gets sticky. On morning's like that Betta comes into the bar and pours a shot for the dusty tinkers on the rim of their day.
Agatha's never closes, meaning that it's been open every day for decades. The place is shaped like a calendar so the mixed blessings that wander in won't get lost. Agatha's is warm and mellow with it's variations on a tarnished afternoon staggered like stools…