"MAD ENTRY"- AN EXPERIMENTAL PROSE 03022011

“Would you like to have some whisky or wine sir?”
The man on his whiskers was sitting proud & stern.
I said, “What would you like to have sir?”
Whisker man seemed unheard of and looked dubious.
“May I bother you sir?”
“Call the captain”, he ordered in a commanding way.
The boy stood straight for fifteen seconds and turned around.
In about a while he returned with the serving utensils and ice cubes.
“Captain Morgan for you sir. Pea-nuts complimentary, sir.”
The customer popped up with a sudden jerk and smacked down the bartenders face.
The bouncers ran after him and grabbed the grey old man sandwiched in between their arms.
The bartender was grinning lying down with his nose bleeding heavily.
The manager rushed in and held up the boy and asked him, “Is he drunk too much?”
The grey old man chuckled and the boy replied, ”He just came in and ordered rum sir.” 

The snowfall outside was getting too much on the Christmas Eve. I gave one dollar tip to the stout and stiff gate-guy and buttoned my overcoat to walk outside. While I looked out in the darkness leaving the chaos behind which was getting fainter with the sliding of the glass door when I glanced back in my aching neck to see the hanging board in a 4 inch by 2 inch wooden block and it wrote: 

          CHRISTMAS MAD ENTRY, HAPPY HOURS: 7:00PM-12:00AM 

While I was sitting opposite to him he was wincing at me more than twice. I thought he was gay and now he seemed to me quite defined. “The poor fellow…” I vanished in the white whistling Phil Collins in the dark.