Three Balding Men Walk into a Bar

By Trivedi Jaimin

Russell, Dunken and Oliver flop through the door and grab a hold of the stools at the bartender’s table. Dunken struggled to go over the edge of the stool seat. Was it because he was short, or doubled up from the weight of the world on his shoulders, is still a mystery, but he finally made it. ‘Do y’all have absinthe?’ said Oliver with his blobby eyes looking up to the bartender, who seemed clearly not in the mood as he looked to be closing down. ‘Absinte? Hmm. Sir, I realise you’re drunk but this is not 1962!’

‘Hey, you know what! I’m done with your sarcasm. Let’s get out of here,’ screamed one of the guys, and just when they were about to storm out, the bartender saw it as a pile of dollar bills that alcoholics usually bestow him with, creeping out with their shadows. Now that is a blow to a struggling bartender in a concrete jungle. He quickly stopped them and insisted upon serving them vodka. He calmed the storm down and got to work.

‘It’s hard, you know,’ murmured Russell with a stifle. ‘Hear, hear!’ Dunken retorted with a lump in his throat. He momentarily gets started by the angry thud of the shotglass put down on the table by the bartender. But Dunken didn’t get bothered and continued, ‘Just last week Jenny asked me to move out of the house. Why? I even started putting the toilet seat down. I do the dishes, but it’s never enough, is it? I can never be enough. Just so that she doesn’t throw a tantrum when she sees the huge towering pile of dishes in the dishwasher, sometimes I don’t even use more than one dish or a bowl per day. That, is my state with that woman. I can’t quite believe what I’m feeling. I’m furious to say nonetheless, I pay more than half the rent, I throw out the garbage, make the bed, serve her breakfast in bed. So what, if I burn the toast once in a while? And after all this, she has the nerve to kick me out?’ Russell felt his speech slur, and Oliver pat his back while hurling his guts out in the trashcan next to him. ‘You’re absolutely right. After you started living with that monster of a woman, you stopped showing up to watch the Saturday night game. It’s always something about Jenny. Date night, movie night. What about your boys, buddy? She’s been a parasite. Just sucking the life out of you.’ Oliver fuelled the fire.

‘Wait till you hear about my problems,’ shouted Russell avoiding a nasty fall, thanks to the bartender. ‘Get away, barbie! You stink!’ The bartender went back to his counter after rolling his eyes back into his socket and front. Russell goes on, ‘It’s horrible. He’s horrible. Last night, I come home late from my job, because people from work decided to treat our boss as he was getting transferred. And everybody was crying, my tears were happy, I tell you that!’ He snorted along with his mates who wheezed their way into the oblivion of drunkenness. ‘So, this guy, who has never given me a day off, has tried to steal my tip, yes, he stole it.’ ‘Right on!’ ‘And now I’m supposed to throw this narc a farewell party? No, I’m not the one. To add to that, my girlfriend thinks I’m seeing this Kathy from work- to which I think, do you even know me, girl? She’s not my type. She’s nobody’s type. She chews so loudly. Kid you not, I once saw a piece of chewed up chicken skin fall out of her mouth and I had to rush to the men’s room. Gross!’ This time the bartender didn’t rush in time to save the tippler from hitting the ground. He did get a deep cut upon striking the ground. A gash was visible but he didn’t feel any pain, and the bartender didn’t bother helping with cleaning the wound. He was in a hurry. Dunken saw Russell bleeding and said, ‘Man! That is so cool. You’ll have a scar!’

‘I have scars you can’t repair.’ Said the last intoxicated musketeer Oliver wailing into his depressed yet empty head. Maybe everybody’s head was empty, thought the bartender. For it did sound like a coconut landing on solid ground falling from the tree when Russell took the fall. The bartender realised he was getting sleepy, but hey, anything for a bit of cash. He didn’t complain. The third wheel rambled on, ‘Since last spring, I don’t know but she kept pointing to a weird thing on my head. Turns out, there is a big crevasse leading up from my forehead. I asked her what the big deal was. She whispered that I am balding. Me? I had the best hair in primary school. Moreover, she says that since I don’t grow a beard, my receding hair line is more prominent. Now how am I supposed to answer to this? It’s not a problem to me. When we’re at a party, I don’t go around pointing out that she wears her cocktail too low. I’m not feeling insecure about the way she looks, then why can’t she leave me alone.’

‘You are not the only one, dear.’ Dunken said with a lack of surprise in his tone. Oliver nodded, ‘True. Even my girl got me one of those lotions that you apply on your hair to grow it out. I don’t know if it’s working though…’ ‘I bet it isn’t.’ Russell interrupted with a shrug. ‘I just throw out my bottle of that cream, potion, lotion whatever just last week. If anything, I’d be happy to go bald, so that I can finally get rid of her.’ The group burst into a hysterical laughter. The guy behind the counter, who couldn’t help but eavesdrop on his only customer, smirked. ‘Another round, on me, in the memory of my lost hair!’ The three of them went frenzy as Oliver asked for more liquor.

The bartender now sensing a problem, asked politely as the norm was, ‘I’m afraid, you guys, I’d have to ask for your keys and licences.’ ‘We don’t have them.’ Russell was quite astonished that he got asked that question. ‘How did you get here?’ ‘We took the bus. We don’t drive.’ ‘In case, you’re lying sir, drunk-driving is a serious offence’ ‘No but you don’t understand little boy, we don’t have licences. I’ll get mine next year.’ ‘That means I’m two years away? Sweet Jesus,’ sighed Dunken knowing his time is yet to come.’ ‘I think you are forgetting what your licence looks like. Let me check you wallet.’ ‘Have at it.’ While flipping through the pockets of Russell’s wallet, the bartender found an ID. It was his school ID. ‘What! You are seventeen! Seventeen!’ ‘I know right,’ replied Oliver, ‘we’re the old boys now.’ ‘Is this some kind of joke? First of all, how did you get in?’ ‘Didn’t you say you were closing, there was no one at the door to stop us, plus, we have handy fake IDs if the need arises.’ Russell pat on Dunken’s back as he answered with a clear mind. ‘But you were just talking about moving out, weren’t you?’ ‘Yeah I’ve been living with my girlfriend for quite some time now. Pops didn’t allow cigarettes and girls in the house. Somehow, he had a problem with me making out on his couch. I don’t’ say anything when my mom’s out and he’s kissing our neighbour Dorothy.’ Russell giggled till his started drooling from his wide open mouth. ‘And tell this lad, about your job,’ said Oliver. Russell said, ‘Yeah, I work the Target store in downtown. Saving up for college. My mom doesn’t make much and dad’s never here. Is he dead? Maybe.’ The perplexed bartender couldn’t help but sigh at the awkward sight as the clock struck two in the morning. ‘Whatever the case may be, sir. I can’t give you any more drinks in this case.’ ‘What? No. Let us. We’ll pay you more.’ ‘No. It’s the law.’ ‘I hate you!’ With a seriously loud exclamation point, the high school trio trotted out of the door as the bartender was left cleaning up and dodging his eyes from the glare that came from Dunken’s, Russell’s and Oliver’s bald heads.

By Trivedi Jaimin