Tales from the Pub

 How long would this gaming go on with Damien? Mick had to get away. It was a good thing the pub was only two doors down from his place above the pizzeria. Of course, the snow was dripping these days in the upstate New York village as March wore on.

It was still daylight, no thanks to Daylight Savings, but there was light. He'd been in the dungeon of his stinky room covered with socks on the floor and left over grinders in the bed. It was time to forget that so-called friend of his. Some partner he was in Lord of the Rings. If only Damien knew how much he shouted at him while on his laptop, but Mick doubted that would bother Damien.

It was time for a change and Dewey's would do it. You could check out comics at the pub, buying them would be good, but people just kept bringing them back, so Dewey's was a lot like a library. Of course, DropKick Murphys was pouring over the speakers, and all Mick could think of was that old rock classic from AC/DC DIRTY DEEDS DONE DIRT CHEAP. He couldn't help but hum as he got to the door, but a looker was in the way, posing for her selfies.

"Excuse me, but I need to get in here," he sighed, thinking she was in his way. Honestly, he didn't want to take a good look at her because she knew she was hot and that put him off.

"Why, the beer will make you green," what a sassy sort she was, twisting a little dance that made him want to see every angle of her.

"Huh?"

"It's St. Paddy's day and my pop's got it in for the proprietor here," she warned him with those Lana Del Rey eyes of hers. She posed for him as if he took a pic, it would last longer.

"Is that so?" He didn't believe her. "I suppose you aren't old enough to go in on your own. All of fourteen, are you?"

"Fourteen!" Oh, her laugh was hearty as if she might be the soul of a barmaid. She flashed a big smile with those kissable lips of hers.

"What do I know," he scowled back thinking it was easy playing hard to get. "I don't date little girls." He pushed his way past her as if she was just a figment of his imagination after all. Maybe her dad was a leprechaun and she was just a fairy.

Yes, maybe he was the one with his head, somewhere else, but it was St. Paddy's and all the little monsters seem to come out. Perhaps.

While he was looking through the latest HULK graphic novel and waiting for his green beer, someone stole his drink.

"I told you not to drink it," her serious eyes consumed him. Hell, if she didn't look even better in a dreary bar.

"Excuse me?"

"Fights are gonna break out," she said as she looked across the room of all the stragglers eating their green chips with green salsa. Something about corned beef was on the chalkboard, but it smelled of cabbage rolls, which does have a rank smell.

"Why are you bothering me?" Mick wrinkled a smile at her as if she was just too cute for her own good. She flaunted that hint of strawberry shine of her hair as she flicked her curls back to show her irresistible nature.

"It's hard to know," she shrugged. "I know you like me."

"Do I?" Mick festered a look as he put his elbow on the bar and tucked his fist under his chin to get a good look at her. "So will I turn green?" He wanted to know.

"Not if I can help it." 

Her smile was rather mischievous. She put her index finger in her mouth and for a second he thought she might be showing her wicked ways that came long after the pub closed. 

Mick held in something of a cough but maybe a laugh. She stuck her finger in his drink.

"So, I guess that's protection?" He bit a grin with a nod. 

And then a bubble popped. The old man behind the bar was suddenly greenfaced. And the fart next to him popped into something of a Shreck. 

Mick was wide awake now as he looked at the green crowd. He wasn't sure he trusted his drink after all.

"Now do you trust me?"

"Well..." Mick gritted a stressful grin. "I don't even know your name."

"You never told me yours, but of course I know," she batted her eyes as if he was the lucky one. "It's Mick." She flashed his driver's license.

"Huh?" Mick shook his head. He didn't want to think of her as a thief. Maybe he was dreaming, but he hadn't even had the green beer. "And?"

"Oh, I'm Molly," she looped her arm around his. 

"Molly," he nodded and took a sip of beer, wondering how to snatch his license back. "You know, I like this place."

"But the night is still young," she told him as she got him off the stool. 

"Wait til I tell Damien about this."

He stood there towering over his date who might have been older than she looked.

"Oh, but you can't tell anyone," she gazed into his eyes as if she'd trained others in the past to her liking. 

"I can't?" It didn't take much to make up his mind about his gaming buddy. By the time she clasped her fingers between his, Mick completely forgot about Damien and his driver's license, too.