Bellying Up To The Bar
A portly middle-aged man walks into the empty lounge and takes a seat at the far end of the bar. He has thinning black hair and a rounded face that lacks definition, his olive complexion serving as evidence of a Mediterranean heritage. A bushy unibrow dissects his elongated forehead as his squinting eyes scan the chalkboard menu behind the bar. His small mouth is closed in a thin straight line as he ponders the alcoholic options at his disposal. As he leans back in his chair, the outdated pinstriped jacket he’s wearing falls backward and exposes his oversized stomach. His dark handlebar mustache twitches uncontrollably and without explanation. The bartender makes his way down from the other end of the bar and tries not to chuckle as he places a small white napkin down in front of the man.