There's a bar like it in every town. It's dimly-lit and the drinkers, although they talk, don't address their words to one another and they don't listen, either. They just talk the hurt inside. It's a bar for the derelict and the unlucky and all of those people who have been temporarily flagged off the racetrack of life and into the pits.
It always does a brisk trade.
On this dawn the mourners sat ranged along the counter, each in his cloud of gloom, each certain that he was the most unfortunate individual in the Whole world.
'I created it,' said Silverfish, morosely. 'I thought it would be educational. It could broaden people's horizons. I didn't intend for it to be a, a, a show. With a thousand elephants!' he added nastily.
'Yeah,' said Detritus. 'She don't know what she wants. I do what she want, then she say, that not right, you a troll with no finer feelin', you do not understand what a girl wants. She say, Girl want sticky things to eat in box with bow around, I make box with bow around, she open box, she scream, she say flayed horse not what she mean. She don't know what she wants.'
'Yeah,' said a voice from under Silverfish's stool. 'It'd serve 'em all right if I went off an' joined the wolves.'
'I mean, take this Blown Away thing,' said Silverfish. 'It's not even real. It's not like things really were. It's just lies. Anyone can tell lies.'
'Yeah,' said Detritus. 'Like, she say, Girl want music under window, I play music under window, everyone in street wake up and shouting out of house, You bad troll, what you hitting rocks this time of night? And she never even wake up.'
'Yeah,' said Silverfish.
'Yeah,' said Detritus.
'Yeah,' said the voice under the stool.
The man who ran the bar was naturally cheerful. It wasn't hard to be cheerful, really, when your customers acted like lightning rods for any misery that happened to be floating around. He'd found that it wasn't a good idea to say things like, 'Never mind, look on the bright side,' because there never was one, or 'Cheer up, it may never happen,' because often it already had. All that was expected of him was to keep the drink coming.
He was a little puzzled this morning, though. There seemed to be an extra person in the bar, quite apart from whoever it was speaking up from the floor. He kept getting the feeling that he was serving an extra drink, and even getting paid for it, and even talking to the mysterious purchaser. But he couldn't see him. In fact he wasn't quite sure what he was seeing, or who he was talking to.
He wandered down to the far end of the bar.
A glass slid towards him.
SAME AGAIN, said a voice out of the shadows.
'Er,' said the barman. 'Yeah. Sure. What was it?'
ANYTHING.
The barman filled it with rum. It was pulled away.
The barman sought for something to say. For some reason, he was feeling terrified.
'Don't see you in here, much,' he managed.
I COME FOR THE ATMOSPHERE. SAME AGAIN.
'Work in Holy Wood, do you?'said the barman, topping up the glass quickly. It vanished again.
NOT FOR SOME TIME. SAME AGAIN.
The barman hesitated. He was, at heart, a kindly soul. 'You don't think you've had enough, do you?' he said.
I KNOW EXACTLY WHEN I'VE HAD ENOUGH.
'Everyone says that, though.'
I KNOW WHEN. EVERYONE'S HAD ENOUGH.
There was something very odd about that voice. The barman wasn't quite sure that he was hearing it with his ears. 'Oh. Well, er,' he said. 'Same again?'
NO. BUSY DAY TOMORROW. KEEP THE CHANGE.