House of Fiscus - Episode 2
Posted: Thu Oct 08, 2015 1:39 pm
With the team out West, I decided to take the opportunity to get out of the office for a bit. What more can I really do sitting there. The club is 18-44 overall, with the worst record in the league. We're facing another loss tonight against Seattle. Wilson has pretty much excluded me from every decision this club has made since bringing me here. I'm not even sure why he even hired me at this point. At least he did listen to me some and brought back Oh and Limon. It's probably no surprise both are having solid runs since coming back to Madison and the club won more games than it lost before their arrival. Maybe he'll start listening to me more often.
Nah, enough about that. I had to get out of the office. I found this little run down just out of the city. I figure no one out here will recognize who I am. Fuck, would anyone in the city even recognize me? It's not like I am all that well known around here. I go in, there's all kinds of neon lights advertising various cheap beers. I'm not here for beer though. I need something stronger. I walk up to the bar and sure enough there's a game on the television. I chuckle because they're not showing the Wolves game. Vegas versus Omaha seems to be the viewing pleasure on this particular. Even local fans have given up already on their hometown team.
"What would like" asks the burly bartender. "Jack and Coke will be fine, thanks" I respond. I scan the room. Pretty empty in here despite it being a Saturday night. A few guys are over in the corner playing pool and smoking cigarettes. The whole rooms smells of cigs and, you guessed it, cheese. My drink is ready so I turn back to the bar, staring blankly at the game. Omaha currently leads 2-1. A win will put us 23-games behind them in the division. Yeah, we're a lost cause. I finish my drink, may eye contact with the bar keep who knows I need another one and refills my glass.
By this point I'm deeply focused on my drink and the game when the stool beside of me moves and a female voice orders a white Russian. I chuckle inside at the thought of the Dude abides. I give a quick glance to see a hefty woman sitting beside of me. She has dark red hair, clearly died a fake shade of the color. She's wearing too little clothes for too much of a woman. I quickly divert back to the game as to not seem interested in getting into any sort of conversation with this woman.
Too late.
"You a baseball fan" she utters as she sips her drink. I raise my eyebrows to acknowledge my answer, never diverting my attention from the television. "I don't follow the sport much. Too slow for me" she continues on. I look down, notice my drink is empty and raise the glass to the bartender. He's back quickly with a refill. "You don't look like a baseball guy. You look more like a boss or manager of a business." She continues to ramble on for several minutes. It feels like hours. The game goes to a commercial break so I break eye contact with the set and decide to at least engage in this woman's talk for a bit since she's clearly not leaving me alone. She's still going on about something resembling baseball as I give her a full look over. She's big. Not too modest. She's wearing some sort of citrus perfume that masks the smell of cheap cigarettes, beer, and yes, cheese. Looking at her I can't think of the exact opposite of Kate, my receptionist. About all they have in common is both have large breasts. Kate's are the kind you'd love to stick your face in and motorboat for fun. This woman's would suffocate you, killing you in seconds. Finally, I have to interrupt her.
"I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name." "Candy" she replies seeming flattered I even care. She sits up a little taller now in the stool that must be doing its best not to splinter to the floor from her weight. "Do you come here often" I ask her, trying to get her voice to stop for a brief second before my ears begin bleeding. "Every weekend" she says. "I tend to hang around, play some pool with some guys, and get my drink on." She follows that up with a shrill wooo sound as if she's a young college student on spring break. I notice at this time the bartender has filled my glass again so I turn back to the tv.
"Who you for" I ask her, raising my glass towards the television set. I spill a drop on my arm. I lick it off. I suddenly notice I may be having a few too many but I don't care. "Oh, I don't really care" she responds. "Those guys in the white pants look nice" she points out, indicating Vegas who's the home team. I now notice the game is in the 7th and the Hustlers have tied it at 3-3. I'm pulling for the Barnstormers to lose, but does it really matter at this point? "I used to date a baseball player once" she continues on. I hear her but the game has my attention as Vegas is threatening to take the lead. I nod my head approvingly but watch on. "I can't remember his name. It's been a while ago. Well, I shouldn't say I "dated" him" she says, using air quotes around dated. "We fooled around a lot. I think he actually played professionally a while back. We'd hook up when his team visited Wisconsin. What was his name?" I've almost drowned her out now watching the game.
"Ahh, it's on the tip of my tongue. Jack. Jim. No, shoot what was it. Zack? Yeah yeah, that's it. Zack Bauer!" I nearly choked on my Jack and Coke. Strangled, I respond "Zack Bauer, really?" "Yeah" she says. "He used to come in here every so often. I found out he was a baseball player and he'd buy me some drinks and we'd head back to my place. He used to come in here complaining about playing for Lou or something and about some guy he called 'The Genius'. He really hated that guy but I never knew who he was. You ever heard of Zack? I think he's retired now. Or maybe dead. He has to be getting pretty old."
Barely controlling my laughter I chuckle "Yeah, I've heard of him. He was a pitcher I think." By this point I've had another few drinks and suddenly realize Candy isn't that bad looking. She appears to have lost 50 pounds and her hair now shimmers gold. She continues to ramble on. I notice the game is now in the top of the 9th and Vegas is ahead 4-3. At that moment, the final out is recorded and Omaha wins. I spin back to Candy who's rambling on about shoes or something. I give her one last look over to make sure and ask "let's get out of here" I say. "I live upstairs, above the bar" she responds back.
"Let's go. I'll show you a Ben Dover Award." I guess Candy will help take my mind off baseball for a bit.
Nah, enough about that. I had to get out of the office. I found this little run down just out of the city. I figure no one out here will recognize who I am. Fuck, would anyone in the city even recognize me? It's not like I am all that well known around here. I go in, there's all kinds of neon lights advertising various cheap beers. I'm not here for beer though. I need something stronger. I walk up to the bar and sure enough there's a game on the television. I chuckle because they're not showing the Wolves game. Vegas versus Omaha seems to be the viewing pleasure on this particular. Even local fans have given up already on their hometown team.
"What would like" asks the burly bartender. "Jack and Coke will be fine, thanks" I respond. I scan the room. Pretty empty in here despite it being a Saturday night. A few guys are over in the corner playing pool and smoking cigarettes. The whole rooms smells of cigs and, you guessed it, cheese. My drink is ready so I turn back to the bar, staring blankly at the game. Omaha currently leads 2-1. A win will put us 23-games behind them in the division. Yeah, we're a lost cause. I finish my drink, may eye contact with the bar keep who knows I need another one and refills my glass.
By this point I'm deeply focused on my drink and the game when the stool beside of me moves and a female voice orders a white Russian. I chuckle inside at the thought of the Dude abides. I give a quick glance to see a hefty woman sitting beside of me. She has dark red hair, clearly died a fake shade of the color. She's wearing too little clothes for too much of a woman. I quickly divert back to the game as to not seem interested in getting into any sort of conversation with this woman.
Too late.
"You a baseball fan" she utters as she sips her drink. I raise my eyebrows to acknowledge my answer, never diverting my attention from the television. "I don't follow the sport much. Too slow for me" she continues on. I look down, notice my drink is empty and raise the glass to the bartender. He's back quickly with a refill. "You don't look like a baseball guy. You look more like a boss or manager of a business." She continues to ramble on for several minutes. It feels like hours. The game goes to a commercial break so I break eye contact with the set and decide to at least engage in this woman's talk for a bit since she's clearly not leaving me alone. She's still going on about something resembling baseball as I give her a full look over. She's big. Not too modest. She's wearing some sort of citrus perfume that masks the smell of cheap cigarettes, beer, and yes, cheese. Looking at her I can't think of the exact opposite of Kate, my receptionist. About all they have in common is both have large breasts. Kate's are the kind you'd love to stick your face in and motorboat for fun. This woman's would suffocate you, killing you in seconds. Finally, I have to interrupt her.
"I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name." "Candy" she replies seeming flattered I even care. She sits up a little taller now in the stool that must be doing its best not to splinter to the floor from her weight. "Do you come here often" I ask her, trying to get her voice to stop for a brief second before my ears begin bleeding. "Every weekend" she says. "I tend to hang around, play some pool with some guys, and get my drink on." She follows that up with a shrill wooo sound as if she's a young college student on spring break. I notice at this time the bartender has filled my glass again so I turn back to the tv.
"Who you for" I ask her, raising my glass towards the television set. I spill a drop on my arm. I lick it off. I suddenly notice I may be having a few too many but I don't care. "Oh, I don't really care" she responds. "Those guys in the white pants look nice" she points out, indicating Vegas who's the home team. I now notice the game is in the 7th and the Hustlers have tied it at 3-3. I'm pulling for the Barnstormers to lose, but does it really matter at this point? "I used to date a baseball player once" she continues on. I hear her but the game has my attention as Vegas is threatening to take the lead. I nod my head approvingly but watch on. "I can't remember his name. It's been a while ago. Well, I shouldn't say I "dated" him" she says, using air quotes around dated. "We fooled around a lot. I think he actually played professionally a while back. We'd hook up when his team visited Wisconsin. What was his name?" I've almost drowned her out now watching the game.
"Ahh, it's on the tip of my tongue. Jack. Jim. No, shoot what was it. Zack? Yeah yeah, that's it. Zack Bauer!" I nearly choked on my Jack and Coke. Strangled, I respond "Zack Bauer, really?" "Yeah" she says. "He used to come in here every so often. I found out he was a baseball player and he'd buy me some drinks and we'd head back to my place. He used to come in here complaining about playing for Lou or something and about some guy he called 'The Genius'. He really hated that guy but I never knew who he was. You ever heard of Zack? I think he's retired now. Or maybe dead. He has to be getting pretty old."
Barely controlling my laughter I chuckle "Yeah, I've heard of him. He was a pitcher I think." By this point I've had another few drinks and suddenly realize Candy isn't that bad looking. She appears to have lost 50 pounds and her hair now shimmers gold. She continues to ramble on. I notice the game is now in the top of the 9th and Vegas is ahead 4-3. At that moment, the final out is recorded and Omaha wins. I spin back to Candy who's rambling on about shoes or something. I give her one last look over to make sure and ask "let's get out of here" I say. "I live upstairs, above the bar" she responds back.
"Let's go. I'll show you a Ben Dover Award." I guess Candy will help take my mind off baseball for a bit.
