Singer's Coke

I was cleaning up the place, picking up all the beer bottles from all the tables, all the beer glasses, too. It was a good job, made the place all nice for the next day. People could come, drink, and listen to music. I wiped the tables. Then I remembered the table on stage. I climbed up. It was difficult because of my large gut. Mom says I should get in shape, and then she smiles, but I think she is sad.

The little table on stage had a half empty coke bottle on it. I picked it up, put it in the crate, making sure it does not tip over, then I wiped the table. I keep the cloth tucked under my belt so it is easy to reach. Sam taught me that as a little trick. I like tricks of the trade, they make me better at my job.

I set the crate on the bar. The bottles would all go in the trash, the glasses would all go in the dishwasher. I had to remember not to throw any glasses away. I almost always remembered about that. But now I had a more important thing to do. I picked up the half-finished coke and walked all the way to the back room.

”Trish,” I said, “Do you want to keep this coke? It was the singer’s."

"Why would I wanna keep that, honey?"

"I dunno. For the wall of fame?"

"Now how would I put a bottle on the wall? Just chuck it in the trash, honey.”

Posted by: Paweł Kowaluk