Bits and Pieces - A comedy
Mr. Air
“We don’ serve Mar-tay-nay’s, Madam.” Mr. Air shook his head as he polished a dirty glass and wondered where it had all gone wrong. ‘Bits and Pieces’ had never been busy, but it had been quiet, safe, and familiar to all the regulars.
Now, to Mr. Air’s dismay, his bar was filled with people who wore flapper dresses and suits, and one gaunt man who winced every time the word Mar-tay-nay was spoken as if it was some kind of safe word.
“People get weirder and weirder,” Mr. Air muttered to himself.
The girl in front of him was the second person who had asked for a Martaynay and he had no idea what she was talking about.
He was trying to make clear to this girl, who seemed too young to drink, not that he cared about that; “My bar ain’t the sort o’ place for them trendy cocktails, Miss.”
Instead of this fancy drink she asked for, he used a none-too-clean glass to draft an ale and offered it to the young woman.
With a mild satisfaction, Mr. Air watched the young girl’s face distort as she took a sip of dark brown ale, that was just a bit off. But having been taught manners she swallowed the liquid bravely, smiled, and walked away.
To Mr. Air’s horror, a woman with a trendy updo and expensive clothes came into view from behind the girl. This woman was positively beaming at him. The only thing he liked about her was the gasper she held in her hand, but even that was perched on some kind of stick.
“A Martini, please,” she asked making the gaunt man wince again and eye her warily. Mr. Air decided he should discreetly kick this man out before he made any disturbance that would cost his bar its good name.
El Nocto
“We don’t serve Mar-tay-nay’s, Madam.” El Nocto winced at the woman who used the codeword but didn’t look like the confidant he was supposed to meet. El Nocto summed her up in a few words. Too young, too pretty, and dumb as a toad.
He was waiting for someone who would join him on a quick cash and dash. The word Martini had felt like such a spark of genius at the time and it would stand out because this was not one of those kinds of bars, it would be easy to find his partner in crime.
El Nocto needed to get out of the city before daybreak, otherwise, coppers would notice he made a run from the prison he escaped from before he was out of their reach.
The first person to ask for a Martini was a man, but he looked too rich to have any interest in a late-night haul. A horrible feeling grew in his stomach that his confidant might have chickened out on him and so would have to start this journey with no money. That didn’t appeal to him at all.
The man behind the counter didn’t look like he would take kindly to people who couldn’t pay for their drinks and this was his second ale.
He looked up with a jolt when another woman asked for a Martini and to his amusement, he saw the poor sod’s face fall in despair.
“No, I do not have Martaynay’s!” The tattooed barkeep shouted.
The woman’s eyes grew wide in bewilderment. “Mar-tee-nee’s. Surely you can make one?” She insisted.
The barkeep threw down the filthy towel he had been pretending to clean glasses with all evening. “I don’t care if they are pronounced Martono’s! I serve ale, beer, and strong spirits. On Friday I have peanuts if you’re lucky and on Tuesday I serve olives.”
“Oh! I would like an olive in my Martini!” The beautiful woman said with a big smile.
“But it’s not Tuesday, I don’t have olives.” The barkeep folded his arms, thinking that was the end of it.
She sucked on her cigarette holder and El Nocto decided if his confidant wouldn’t show up, he’d try to get her to pay his bar tab.
Miss Angelis
Miss Angelis pushed open the door to the grubby-looking bar with the sign above it that told her this was indeed ‘Bits and Pieces’. A tightness held on to her chest as she stepped in, but it melted away when she heard the barkeeper say something about Martini’s. That was a drink that would do her some good.
She looked around the place with apprehension but shrugged it off because it was where her Miss. Baylar told her to go. And such a woman of taste was never wrong. It was time to have a good time after her engagement had been called off this morning. With a drag from her cigarette she wondered when the man would announce the band, she was in a mood for a dance.
She walked up behind a young woman who could be no older than 18, sipping dark brown ale with a stony face.
“A Martini, please,” Miss Angelis asked with her biggest smile and she saw the man’s expression sag. The man sighed and made such a fuss, but his accent was so strong and the tattoos on his arm distracting, she couldn’t make heads or tales of it. She perked up when she heard him say something about olives, but then he said he had none. It’s all very confusing.
The man looked so miserable she decided to help him out, she took a deep drag from her cigarette holder and pointed at the bottle of clear liquid behind the man.
“Is that vodka?” She asked, speaking slowly, “I would like two and a half shots of that.”
The man looked at the liquid, and then back at her said something. All she hears is gin and lady. Miss Angelis sighed in frustration, and asked herself, where they found this hillbilly.
“Yes, yes, gin is fine, do you also have some vermouth? Preferably dry.”
The barkeeper rumbled something and folded his tattooed arms and the dirty-looking man beside her coughed. “He says he won’t serve such a fine lady like yourself such a strong spirit.”
Miss Angelis opened her mouth to spit out her anger, then her face crumpled in disappointment before she settled on frustration. “He’s denying me service?”
El Nocto
The beautiful woman all but bent over the counter and pointed at a bottle of gin behind the man.
“Is that vodka?” She asked slowly and the man narrowed his eyes, made a show of looking at the bottle and back at her, and told her, “That’s gin and I’m not going to give a lady that much to drink.”
The barkeep jutted out his chin, but the woman, oblivious to his defiance, said,
“Yes, yes, gin is fine, do you also have some vermouth? Preferably dry.”
“I’m getting too old for this.” Even though he can’t be over 40. El Nocto feels for the man and tells the woman, “He says he won’t serve such a fine lady like yourself such a strong spirit.”
Her beautiful face contorted into something shocking, “He’s denying me service?”
“No! No!” El Nocto tried to salvage the situation, but the barkeep looked furious at him. “He is just worried that a fine gentlelady like yourself can’t-”
“What? Hold my liquor?” She puts her hands in her sides like his mother used to do when she gave him a scolding. “This is an insult! An outrage!”
“Appreciate such a low-class drink.” El Nocto ended lamely.
The woman’s face softened back into the beautiful woman. “Ah, I see. Well, I’m not worried about that at all.”
The terrified bartender had put the gin and vermouth on the counter and put an empty wine glass, probably the only wine glass he had, next to the bottles.
“Show me how it’s done then.”
Mr. Air
With grinding teeth Mr. Air lets the young woman tell him how to make one of those fashionable drinks. He first pours the strong spirits into a glass, finds a spoon, and stirs. The woman beams as she takes a sip and he must admit that he felt pretty good about being the reason for such a beautiful smile. But he kept his face deadpan until she walked away, the grubby man in tow.
Mr. Air’s gut told him this was bad news, but he watched as the woman gave the man a stern talking to, and decided she could take care of herself.
Now that it was quiet again, Mr. Air decided to try one of those blasted drinks. He discreetly mixed the drink in a beer glass and took a swig. It had a tangy, herbal flavor. He peered at it, thinking this was actually not bad. It might do well with an olive.
The door of ‘Bits and Pieces’ flung open, screeching on its hinges, and with a lot of noise a crowd of young, excited women dashed into ‘Bits and Pieces.
He gaped at the women who rushed toward him with a wild look in their eyes. There was so much color in their dresses, they smelled horrifyingly sweet and they were so loud. Their voices high, like hens in a pen. He never saw the guant man leave the bar behind them. He didn’t think about the man until he almost fell asleep later that night, but at this time a horde of women demanded his attention.
One of them shrieked, “I need a Martini!!”
Mr. Air furrowed his brow and looked at his usual crowd, who were sitting, bent over their ale and playing a tiresome game of cards. Then he looked at the women with the hungry look in their eyes. He jutted out his jaw, threw his filthy rag over his shoulder, and said…