ANYTHING CAN HAPPEN ON A TUESDAY NIGHT

CW: Violence, murder

He sat at the counter with what seemed like a lead weight in the center of his stomach. A crimson hue emanated from the short clear glass of cheap wine in front of him, and there were a thousand other places that he wished to be at that moment. Then his arm raised with an open hand and aligned itself perfectly to catch the full weight of his forehead.

It was a slow Tuesday night at the village bar, and the only company he had was the couple at the far end. Their argument permeated the air like a putrid odor. Also, there was Francine, the bartender. She looked over at the lone man and shook her head. Experience had been the best of her teachers, and she knew right away that she would have to babysit the overgrown man-toddler. The thought of him coupled with the arguing man and woman duo started to make her feel resentful. 

Francine had wanted a much better life for herself, but that opportunity was most likely far past the horizon by now. She had gone to school and taken some life science classes, but that was only the beginning. She would have to get an undergrad degree to go to dental school. It was a dream that she let go of a long time ago, but ever since, there were many nights, especially while tending bar, that she regretted not chasing it.

She isolated herself to a location halfway between the lone man and the couple, which was a kind of neutral territory. She could still hear the argument brewing, but she was far enough from them now that her environment seemed less caustic.

Tuesday nights were typically slow, and she appreciated that there were no other patrons begging her to serve them. Those nights were pure insanity to her. She would have one of the drinks of an order filled, working on the second one, and then someone else would tell her a completely different order. When things got that crazy, she would go mad with a mental hatred towards them, like they needed to learn some basic manners. She was good at her job however, and she managed to bury that anger deep inside of herself, without ever showing it.

She took a couple of steps back and leaned against the inner wall of the bar; then pulled her phone out, and started scrolling again. She had gone through five or six reels and looked up to check on things. Her eyes shifted from left to right, just the same three people. No one had moved.

“Excuse me? Miss?”, a voice rang out. Francine looked up and saw the woman of the couple frantically waving her hand trying to get Francine’s attention. Her husband had gone still and silent. The scour on his face projected anguish and misery towards the far wall in front of him. Francine walked over to where the couple was sitting and raised her eyebrows slightly, as if to ask how she could help the woman.

“Another cosmo please.”

Without saying anything, Francine snatched the glass from under her nose and walked off to make her another. 

The woman’s irritating voice called out again, “Make it a double please!”. Francine nodded.

Completing the order was automatic for Francine, as she filled the glass with its required components and placed the newly made drink down in front of the woman,

“Here you go.”, she said flatly.

The woman eagerly scooped up the glass and took a long sip.

“Oh that is delicious! Thank you.”, the woman said.

Francine had started walking, and she now had her back towards the woman, rolling her eyes as she distanced herself from the couple.

“And here they go…”, Francine whispered quietly to herself, “Three, two, on—", the man and woman had resumed their argument.

Their quarrel had been going on for close to the same amount of time as the lone man had been sitting there. Most of the brawl between them had become background noise to Francine. She wondered how the lone man remained so calm.

I really wish they would SHUT UP! she thought, but she knew that even if she did say something to them, it wouldn’t take long before they started back at each other again.

Francine just rolled her eyes and walked back towards the lone man. It had been a little while since he had ordered anything. She walked towards him covering the distance of what seemed to be the equivalent of a dining room table until she stood facing him. The small glass of wine, which had been poured close to an hour ago had not been touched. The man who had ordered it was still slouched over and balancing somehow on the bar stool directly behind it. His face stayed hidden and his head still cradled in his hand.

“Hey, are you alright?”, Francine asked.

She dipped her head slightly, trying to get a look at his face. The lights of the bar were very dim, and the only thing that she could identify clearly was the top of his head. Thick coarse hair sprouted from his scalp. Francine tried to remember what he looked like earlier when he placed his order. No images came to mind, and she guessed that the burly tufts of hair framed his face and head tightly.

“Hey…” she knocked on the bar surface in front of him, and still there was no response.

Then gently, but firmly, she shoved his shoulder.

“Hey!”, her voice became slightly elevated.

The man stayed motionless, and Francine’s frustration began to soar, but she continued trying to get the man’s attention anyway. The couple at the opposite end of the bar stopped fighting and looked over towards her.

“Is he alright?”, the husband asked, trying to project his voice so that Francine could hear.

“I don’t know!” Francine snapped, and she flashed an evil gaze towards him, “But he sure as hell isn’t looking too good!”, Francine rudely snapped back.

“Okay…sorry I asked.”, the husband said to her. Francine ignored them and kept doing anything she could to get the hunched over man to come around. The other man sat back down on his bar stool, next to his wife, and they both continued to observe from a comfortable distance and craned their heads to get a better look.

Francine wasn’t sure what to do next and laid her phone on the bar, ready to call 911. 

“Come on, WAKE UP!”

She had tended bar for several years and had learned to take care of herself when necessary. She prepared herself by reaching for a large knife used for cutting garnishments. Francine held the knife tightly, as she was unsure what the lone man’s response would be.

“Okay, you’re gonna talk to me!”, she said forcefully.

Then she reached forward with her left hand, and the knife in the other, and grabbed a large handful of the man’s hair and pulled, trying to force his head up to get a better look.

“WHHHAAAAAARRRRRGH!”, the lone man roared out at her. His response shocked Francine and caused her to instantly release the large ruff of hair. She stared in disbelief as he stood up. He towered over her, and she immediately stepped back toward the inner wall of the bar.

His appearance was threatening, and his colossal black silhouette consumed the room and seemed to blend into the dimly lit background. Francine was humbled by what she was witnessing. If he had been another foot taller, his head would be touching the ceiling fan. She scanned the bar quickly from side to side. The quarrelsome couple were the only others present. If he continued to pose a threat, it would be up to the three of them to take him out.

The figure hesitated with its pale faint eyes fixated on Francine. She could sense this demon, or monster was calculating a counter strike to gain its revenge for her earlier actions. It leaned closer to the bar, filling in the void between it and Francine. 

She scurried towards the opposite end of the bar hoping to find a safe place next to the couple. Shocked, all three of them stared at this thing that hadn’t moved in the last hour, but now appeared to have the energy of a gang of thugs.

“What the hell is going on?’, the husband shrieked out. He sprang to his feet, and without taking his eyes off of the events unfolding before him, he blindly stirred under the bar, fumbling for his wife’s hand.

“Come here honey.” His voice cracked slightly as he pulled the woman from her seat. With a look of fear in his eyes, he wrapped both arms around his bride and squeezed her tightly.

“Please, please…don’t hurt us.”, he pleaded, acting as a shield for her.

The demon turned, its every move calculated and methodical. Its eyes looked penetrating, as it moved slowly towards the other end of the bar, tracking every micro movement.

“STOP!”, Francine yelled out with the knife still in hand, “DON’T MAKE ME HURT YOU!”

There was nothing she could do to avoid him. He mirrored her perfectly, and there was no safety net for her, no decoy available to distract him. 

She dug her heels into the inner bar, trying desperately to find a foothold on the shelves and cabinet doors. 

“Don’t hurt me, don’t hurt me…DON’T!”. It was only four barstools away from her now. Its slow steady pace with its glowing eyes continued to terrorize Francine. She looked over her shoulder and saw the couple still standing there. It looked to her like they were watching or waiting to see what would happen.

Francine was shocked at why they wouldn’t help her. “Help me!”, she yelled out. They merely returned her supplication with a cold terrified stare.

The thing was standing directly across the bar from her now, neglecting everything else and poised to lunge at her.

“WHAT DO YOU WANT?!”, she yelled out desperately.

As he closed in on her, his upper lip started to recede towards the upper half of his face, which revealed a massive set of pale dirty teeth, most of which looked like they had sharpened tips.

Francine, almost crying now, sobbed, “WHAT ARE YOU?”

She was certain that this was it, this would be how she would die. 

“STOP! STOP! YOU DON’T HAVE TO DO THIS!”, the woman of the couple yelled out frantically.

Its eyes appeared to glow as they continued to close in on Francine. The adrenaline burst she felt earlier had now drained itself from her system, and her feet refused to obey her attempt to flee. In her mind, she saw a safe clearing, and she knew that it was a place for her to retreat to or to die in. She was more terrified than ever now, and her focus sharpened. She narrowed her eyes and clumsily stood up to confront this thing that she was certain would end her life.

She winced briefly, awaiting a lethal strike. She hoped it would be quick, but it never came. Perhaps this thing was toying with her, and deliberately prolonging her agony.

Brief visions of a playground with her friends when she was a young girl filled her head, and she raised the knife high with its tip aimed at the ferocious demon. It leaned over the bar and reached forward with its dangling long bony fingers. Francine leaped forward and brought the knife down hard, causing the thing to moan out in agony. She withdrew the knife and struck again, this time on the other shoulder. Francine pulled back the knife once more and adjusted her grip; then vigorously, she plunged it deep into the thing’s chest. 

“WHRRRRGGGHGH”, the thing muffled out a final roar, as it fell helplessly away from her. She felt confident that it was no longer a threat as it fell to the floor. Francine fell back against the inner wall of the bar. She was manic from the trauma of what she’d just been through. The couple, still there, but at a distance from the bar, looked curiously at her. Then they stepped over to the place where Francine’s attacker last stood. Francine, scared and crying, was trying her best to process everything. The couple disappeared from Francine’s view for a moment as they crouched down to examine the carnage. 

Francine remained motionless and was still too traumatized by the event to move. The man and woman walked over to the section of the bar where Francine was standing, separated by the depth of the bar surface. The woman stared coldly at Francine’s blood-soaked hands, then shifted her eyes to observe the spatters of blood on her shirt, then resumed until they stopped at her face. She was staring directly into Francine’s eyes now with a sullen, expressionless look on her face.

“He’s dead.”, she said in a monotoned voice.

The woman’s words deflected off Francine, and there were brief flashes of the ordeal replaying in her mind as she stared at the blood on her hands. She looked back towards the woman and her husband, almost begging with her eyes to tell her what had happened. The couple just stared. The woman asked, “Why? Why did..?”

Francine scoured her face. She tried to make sense of what the woman was asking.

“He told you”, the woman’s husband said, “He’d had too much to drink.”

Francine became dizzy and she started to mentally stitch together the evening’s events. 

“What?”, Francine muttered.

“The man that was sitting over there.”, the husband said as he pointed towards the portion of the bar where the still untouched wine glass prevailed.

Francine’s mind started to feel cloudy again as she tried to make sense of what had happened. She looked back down at her hands, then stared out to the abyss of the empty space past the bar.

Then she turned back to the couple, “You saw…”, she said. The man put his arm around his wife and pulled her in close as he shook his head.

“But…”, Francine’s mind played blank slates in succession as she tried to remember.

“His phone was dead, and he asked if he could charge it to call an Uber.”, the man stated.

Francine’s knees buckled and she nearly fell to the floor, but the inside counter prevented her collapse, “I-I-I…you mean…”.

Confusion enveloped Francine, and she kept looking for the couple to help her make sense of what had just happened. They were farther away now, almost at the exit. Francine pushed against the inner counter and steadied her stance. Then she walked over to the bar counter. As she leaned over the counter, she saw a frail man lying on the floor. He was tall, middle-aged, and conservatively dressed. And one last detail she noticed; he was wearing a long black overcoat.

Francine slid back into the open area behind the bar and continued her descent down to the floor. A numb feeling engulfed her as she laid on her back, motionless. The reality of a slow Tuesday night had hit her very hard.