It was dusk, and Jeremy Deighton had just finished another hard day at work. Construction wasn't the easiest job, even when there wasn't snow on the ground in below freezing temperatures, like today. Thinking he could use a pick-me-up, he stuffed his hands deeper into his pockets and picked his way through strangers' footprints to one of his favorite haunts: the Lonely Traveler.
The Lonely Traveller was a cozy, out-of-the-way bar run by a quaint little man named Frank, who often looked as run down as the bar he ran. Though when you got him talking about football or his only daughter Jenni, he seemed like a man who had just won the lottery. He always said his only love was a good brew, but for the the local haunters, like Jeremy, he was much more than that.
Jeremy trudged into the bar like he would his own house. Taking a deep breath he noted all the familiar smells of his favorite ale's. He grinned, happy to be home.
Jeremy looked for his favorite seat at the bar, only to find it was taken by a tall, brooding stranger who looked like he'd had one too many drinks. Jeremy had been around enough drunks to know when they wanted their space and this one clearly wanted to be left alone.
Taking a place at the bar a couple seats down, Jeremy swiveled the stool away from the man to watch the college bowl game that was on.
"Damn Ducks. They beat my Seminoles," growled Frank. Jeremy turned to see the smiling familiar mustached face of Frank standing next to him, wiping a glass clean with a dirty old rag. Frank always had to be doing something with his hands, though it never seemed a priority to wash that old cloth.
Frank gave a knowing wink and asked, "The usual for you then Mr. Deighton?" Jeremy nodded his ascent without saying a word and turned his attention back to the game.
"Frank, why don't you give him some of the new stuff?" Came an unfamiliar voice from behind him. Jeremy swiveled in his chair to find out who had spoken and was surprised to find himself staring at the new guy.
Frank shot a look at the man and started talking about this new brew he purchased this morning. "It's really a tasty drink. Bought it off an old lady who was selling off the remainder of her cellar so she could pay her mortgage. Got a good deal too. Never tasted anything like it though. I didn't want to mention the stuff since there's not much left and this bloke's already drinking from the bottom of the barr..."
"He can have some," interrupted the man, "Th' stufs amazin' and I'll be damned if it doesn't make you fly. Every man should feel like I do right now."
Frank rolled his eyes but offered Jeremy a cup anyways. "Do you want to try it?"
Jeremy hesitated for a second, unsure if he wanted to waste his $20 budget on something new. Surely it can't be that bad though if Frank likes it, he thought to himself. And heck, he could use a change.
"I'll take it."
Jeremy grabbed the cup and took a small sip, rolling the ale around his tongue to catch the full flavor. By no means did he possess a refined palet, but that didn't mean he didn't know how to enjoy a good drink.
It tasted like a mix between an old french Marlot mixed with a juicy mango picked fresh off a tree in Maui. He liked it giving a "hmm" of approval, taking another sip.
"See?! Ain't that the best stuff ya ever did taste?"
Jeremy nodded his head quickly and tried to say so, but coughed hard as the sting of alcohol slid down the wrong pipe.
"I knew yo'd 'ike it!" Said the man, slapping his thigh. "Ya know, come to think of it, I feel like I could jump off the roof and fly!" Jeremy and Frank laughed hard at that. The man was funny when drunk. But also seemed kind of crazy. He had gotten up and headed for the stairs.
"Now where do ya think you're going?" asked Frank.
"I'm gonna do it," the man grumbled as he started up the first steps.
"No you can't! You're drunk and aren't thinking straight. Come back!" said Jeremy. "I can and I will. You'll see" came the echoy response.
Jeremy shot out of his chair and fell flat on his face. Wow that stuff is strong.
Getting up, he stumbled to the opening and looked up, only to find the man on the third story landing and opening the door to the roof.
"Stop!" Was all Jeremy managed to get out before the door slammed shut.
Determined to stop the man, Jeremy began climbing the stairs, one at a time, leaning heavily on the railing to keep himself straight. "Normally I could take these steps three at a time," he complained under his breath. "I wish it didn't affect me so much. If I'm moving this slow, then he must be too", so he kept shuffling in a general upward direction with hope.
1st landing. Keep going. 2nd floor. Halfway there. Third landing. He was picking up speed. The drink must be wearing off. The door was just inches a way. Jeremy reached, grabbed it and thrust the door open to the roof. He arrived just in time to see the man jump.
"Nooo!!!" Jeremy shouted as he raced as quickly as he could to the roof's edge.
Dodging a few poles clumsily and stubbing his toe on a box he swore moved in front of him, Jeremy made it to the edge and looked down, expecting to find the mess of the drunk below, surely with several broken bones and needing a doctor.What he saw instead was bizzare.
The same drunk mess that took his favorite seat, had recommended that drink, and whom, he might add, had just throw himself off the rooftop, was just standing there looking up at him. Not a scratch, just a face etched with the stupidist grin. "I knew it would work!" He yelled, becoming Jeremy to follow.
After gesturing for Jeremy to follow, the man turned on the spot to return to the bar, thinking to get more of the good stuff. "What were you thinking? You're a trouble maker, you know that?" Frank said as the man took Jeremy's seat and downed the last of his new favorite drink.
The man smiled and replied, "You'd better call 911. Looks like we're going to need a doctor after all."
The old bartender shook his head, and rolled his eyes. But he picked up the receiver and began turning the dial to a 9 on his old rotary phone.
"You know," Frank said jerking the 1, "You can be a real jerk when you're drunk Superman."
Frank could almost hear the sound of a siren as the the dial slid back to zero as the final number fell in place.
