Sports Bar

The girls made their way through the tinted doors and into the bar. This was just about the last place Morgan could imagine herself visiting by herself. The interior was bereft of natural light, everything illuminated by TV screens and gaudy neon lights. Flags for football teams Morgan couldn’t identify in a million years hung beside Irish memorabilia that looked like it was straight from goodwill.

The skunky scent of spilled beer and cigarettes caked the atmosphere. Morgan sniffed and grimaced.

“I think we’ve finally found a place that might be improved by your farts.” She scoffed.

Liz beamed. “Don’t you worry about that. Booze gives me the worst gas!”

Is there anything that doesn’t? Morgan chuckled to herself and let her friend take the lead. If she were on her own right now she wouldn’t feel remotely comfortable in such an environment, but with Liz there was a certain breezy confidence that made her feel like she could do anything.

The girls slid up to the bar and Liz took stock of the bar around them. In one corner a group of rough-looking dudes hunched around a pool table taking intermittent sips of frothy beer. In another corner, furs sporting football jerseys yelled at one of the TVs.

“Y’know I like it here. It has character.”

“That’s one word for it.” Morgan gave a lopsided grin. “You wanna get some drinks?”

“This early in the day?” Liz’s eyes widened. “Hah. You’re a real party animal, ain’tcha!”

“Hey! You’re the one who brought us to a bar! What’d you think was gonna happen?”

Liz flagged down the gruff beleaguered Doberman behind the bar who tramped over, running a dirty cloth through a glass tankard.

“What can I get you girls?”