Captain Flapjack's Regal Beaver

I have for weeks, maybe even months, now been making grandious promises to two(well now three) guys I have employed as my saturday regulars at the bar.

Like clockwork I set up the bar and at four o'clock sharp I open the front door. First in is Chrissy, tall skinny rocker whose usually hung over and twitching with hilarious stories from the prior night. Then enters my first and most loved regulars, the one's I will someday cross over from drink boss to friends with. These are the two guys whose friend was accosted by The Old Crusty Prostitute. Both of them being so wickedly charming and funny I constantly find myself trying to be more funny than I have ever been, pulling out all of the old and new tricks from my bag. I must make them laugh, it's the only way I could ever repay them for all the long hard nights they have worked drinking PBR's and shots of Maker's Mark at the bar.

Side Note: Eric, the shorter of the two regulars who sounds like Wolfman Jack and has these crazy piercing blue eyes, told me a story last week about how when he was a toddler he and a toddler buddy, all naked because they snuck out of their bath, busted out two beers from the parents beer coolers and started tossing them back. When the mother saw this instead of taking the beer away she took a picture and laughed while the boys got all jacked up. When he was teething she would hand him a cold beer can to suck on. I dream of being that kind of mom.

Now about all these promises.....

It all started when someone came in and played every disco song they could find on the juke box. Somehow it came to be that I was going to start wearing crazy disco onesy's that gave me camel toe(or moose knuckle as they say in Canada), have big puff pony tails sticking out to the side of my head, on rollar skates, with glitter all over my face, and a big furry jacket, disco dancing behind the bar. The whole town would be a buzz about this crazy Disco Winky. I would rollar skate to and from work with my disco tunes blaring from the radio the guy who walked behind me carried. I would twirl and spin and back skate while throwing my arms up and out and all disco-eee around me. People would drive by screaming from their cars, "Hey it's Disco Wink".

Then it came to be that I shouldn't always be Disco Winky, that it should change week to week. I then became the pirate wench who would serve the swill and cuss and smoke a lot. I would wear old whenchy dresses with my boobs all hoisted up under my chin. Aye! When I was Madam Whench I would have a parrot who would fly and land on shoulders of innocent young boys at the bar and squawk, "Raarr, he farted... it was him, raaar". I would then in all my whenchyness toss the poor young rascal out onto the curb.

Then I decided I wanted to open my own bar called Captain Flapjack's Regal Beaver, and every night of the week I would come in as one of my alter-egos that they had donned a name for. I would either be Madam Whench, Disco Wink, Skank, Bernice... and what not. I would have my fart blaming parrot, a chimp that smoked and served drinks with his furry little fingers all up in their cocktails dropping the glasses down on the bar in front of his chosen customer. There would be a moving walkway behind the bar so when you went to serve someone at the other end customers would just see you face forward, still as can be, moving down to the other end(this would be a highlighted feature for Disco Wink, strike a disco pose and float to the other peeps). I would have a kareoke machine hooked to the t.v. behind the bar but I wouldn't let anyone but myself use it. I would just stand, while the chimp slaved over drinks, and croon horribly into the mic. The place would be packed, everyone would want to go to Captain Flapjack's Regal Beaver. The name of the bar is getting worked on because as Eric so kindly put it, "A name like that, Skank, it's gonna' quickly became the hottest dyke bar in town... which I'll still come.". So maybe I'll think about it.

I fear if I don't show up as someone other than myself this week I will lose my Good Time Charlie's. I fear if I do show up as someone other than myself I will lose my job. "Winky we're going to have to let you go and these gentlemen in the pretty white truck with the white jacket are going to take you to a lovely little place where you can get some rest.".

Ah woe is me.