Three harbingers walk into a bar...

Three harbingers walk into a bar...

BobDylan530 27 Nov 2010 22:58

"I'm telling you, Johnny, you can take him. I know it's been a few years since you boxed professionally but you've still got it. That Rusky won't know what hit him." A man of middling height stepped into the bar, followed closely by a very tall man. The first man wore an impeccably pressed lab coat and a monocle, which, in tandem with the hint of grey hair at his temples and his winning, polished smile, gave him a feeling of easy companionship. The second man, in contrast, wore nothing except boxing gloves and yellow silk boxer shorts. His wavy mess of jet black hair was slicked back with sweat, and even though a few teeth were missing, he smiled a full, open mouth smile, bravely displaying his battle scars.

"Heya, doc, I thinks you might be right. Bottle of vodka, eh, barkeep?" Vassily reached under the counter and retrieved an icy bottle of potato liquor for the tall man. The man exchanged his hundred dollar bill for it, and with a wink, began to drink from it relentlessly, until about a minute later he wiped the last of it from his chin. "Hey, barkeep… say, you got a name." Vassily shrugged. "Oh, well, thanks for the juice, anyhow. I could sure use some Jack to wash it down, whadda you think, doc?"

The average sized man chuckled briefly. "Well, if that fight with Vladimir doesn't kill you, your alcoholism certainly will."

A roar of deep laughter escaped from the tall man. "Whoa, doc, you sure knows how to flatter a guy." Vassily approached with a dusty handle of Jack Daniels. "Hey, thanks again, no-name. Doc, you wanna sip?" The middling man shook his head, still smiling. "Well, I'll drink it for ya." The tall man emptied half the bottle, sighed with contentment, and slipped the remainder of the alcohol into his left boxing glove. "For the road," he said. "Catch ya later, doc."

"Farewell, Johnny. Try not to forget where you put that."

"You know me doc, I never do."

The average sized man sat at the bar and picked up a cashew from a small wooden bowl. He twirled it idly between his thumb and forefinger, watching intently, with catlike focus. Vassily went back to polishing a stein.

Re: Three harbingers walk into a bar...

BobDylan530 30 Nov 2010 04:15

This is without a doubt the best gin and tonic I shall ever taste.

The doctor leaned on the back two legs of his bar stool, gripping the edge of the bar for support. Vassily noted this with a frown; he did not want to see his stool damaged, as it had been a while since a shipment of furniture had made it's way out this far.

A shadow filled the door, and the doctor's stool landed back on all four legs with a thud. "I thought we agreed, I have four days to get things in order."

"I'm afraid we need you now, doctor. Our… illness has progressed faster than I expected." The shadow dispersed and a slender handsome man emerged wearing a finely tailored purple suit and shimmery black shirt with a ruffled collar. His hairline had receded but not surrendered, and a ponytail aided his forehead from the rear.

The doctor stood and laid down a twenty dollar bill on the bar. "Keep the change," he said to an unresponsive Vassily. The doctor gulped the last half of his drink, a bitter smile on his face. Yep. Delicious.

Re: Three harbingers walk into a bar...

BobDylan530 05 Apr 2011 04:51

A year later, the doctor returns.

His gray has grown more dominant, threatening to invade the top of his neatly trimmed hairdo. Worry lines flicker in and out of existence on his forehead like an unattended game of Whack-a-Mole. Yet he still wears the same confidant, inviting smile and his Wingtip shoes are as polished as ever. They click at a lazy, waltzing tempo.

"Scotch, neat, please. Thank you, Vassily." He sinks into his bar stool as though he was never gone; it, a mother and he, the cradled infant. His shoulders drooped and he heaved a long sigh that filled the room ever so briefly with the keenest sense of having done a good deed for another.

Re: Three harbingers walk into a bar...

BobDylan530 05 Apr 2011 07:43

A newcomer enters, and the room chills.

His speckled white hair is slicked back on his head haphazardly. His spine is severely hunched, and wrinkles splay out across his face like a river delta. His clothes stand at a severe counterpoint to his apparent age, however. He is wearing leopard skin leggings and a muscle shirt, as well as a leather jacket with the words 'Punctured Spleene' on the back, covered in flames that appear to be dancing.

Dhuum has fallen on the bar.