The Sacrifice

Many a drunken night. Killer Cd jukebox. So sad… I am so sad.

There was some serious mojo or voodoo goin’ on with this place… but I miss it. Every time I’d gone to The Sacrifice –usually for happy hour– or two– something «interesting» always happened. Thought it was a dark cloud hanging over me, until other people started to tell me strange stories. Here’s mine:
It was a dark and stormy night. Ok, not really. Bunch of teachers were having a little send off for one of their colleagues. Teachers, right? That’s gotta be fairly tame. Uh-​uh! Walked in to meet my friends who were already under the spell of this Bermuda Triangle of bars. The teachers were blitzed. I mean Sid & Nancy blitzed. Can a couple of beers really do that? I was trying to play catch up. One of the teachers came up and asked me to arm wrestle with her. Strange request, but to appease the freak I decided to just get it out of the way. We arm wrestled and I let her win (should’ve kicked her can). She then asked me to give her «some money.» I had enough for a pint until I could get to an ATM. She insisted, «Give me the money or buy me a beer,» which is the same thing. I laughed politely and said, «Maybe some other time.» She insisted on arm wrestling again. I told her she’d already kicked my tailpipe. This one couldn’t handle her victory or her liquor– no false modesty even– and before I knew it, she grabbed the hand that had the money. I tightened around the cashish (It was only 5 bucks). Uh-​oh conflict! She chipmunk-​bit my finger. Her jaws just pit-​locked on to the knuckle and wouldn’t release. My face went from «ow-this-hurts-there’s-a-drunk-chick-biting-my-finger» to OW-​THIS-​HURTS-​DONT-​BIGHT-​MY-​FINGER-​DRUNK-​CHICK!!! She wouldn’t let go. I pushed her lightly. Leaning Tower of Piza fell drunkenly into her chair. I examined my now bleeding finger. Would I require a rabies shot? For some reason the patrons who hadn’t been paying any attention, now all turned (Voodoo in action). The woman yelled «HE PUSHED ME.» I feebly tried to point to my finger. A bouncer type came to her aid. «It’s time to leave buddy.» I walked out saying, «But she bit my finger.» Moments later «chipmunk» teacher was ushered out as well, hurling a wave of epithets at everyone in her path (including me again).
Oh Sacrifice… how we miss you (my finger et Moi!)