Post by sammy evan williamson on Mar 5, 2016 14:17:47 GMT -5
Sammy loved putting in the hours at O’Malley’s. He just loved the atmosphere of a good bar. He didn’t give a damn for fancy lounges or places where you needed to dress up and mortgage your soul to afford half of the bar menu. He liked a good old fashioned kind of place where regulars were on a first name basis with the staff, and where it was best when it was loud and rowdy. He liked seeing marks on the tables and nicks in the wood. It was all evidence of the stories that had been told there, the things that had taken place over the many years the small Irish Pub had stood proudly in place. He always had time to listen to the regulars tell their tales, even if he had heard them a dozen times before, or knew they were telling them differently from how the story had really taken place.
One day Sammy hoped to own a bar of his own. A regular spot people to come to after work or on the weekends. He was probably a long way off from achieving that dream, but that didn’t stop him from picturing that day. He knew his parents still wished he would go to college, pursue something that his intelligence was suited to, but Sammy didn’t understand why being a borderline genius meant he had to become a rocket scientist or a doctor. None of that appealed to him. He liked being around people, around the characters that made a city. He was the brightest kid in school but he didn’t care about that. These days he kept Perri entertained solving puzzles in record time or by answering her curious questions faster than she could consult google, but that was fine. It was different, and sort of like a party trick for those who witnessed those moments of his Walking Encyclopaedia ruses. No one was trying to pressure him into Yale or Harvard, and no one was simply assuming he would go on to make a career out of his smarts. That had been what had annoyed him most of all.
He was in early today. There were some deliveries due that would have to go into the cellar and be sorted through and it was a job Sammy didn’t mind doing while the bar was quiet. Stirling was in the office anyway if things did get a little busier, but it was usually quiet enough to enjoy the start of the afternoon with good conversation while he stocked the bar and made sure everything was as it should be before the dinner rush. There was always someone having a bad day who needed to wash it down with a cold one and some company who didn’t need to wear a collar and tie five days of the week. O’Malley’s could usually promise that crowd and then some. Sammy stocked the refrigerator with the bottled beers, whistling to himself as he carefully slotted each bottle into place.
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TAGGED! Echo Paxton Faulk
WORDS! 502!
LYRICS! Victorious - - - Panic At The Disco
NOTES! <3
