...Propping up the Mahogany Bar
Monday 14th November . 18:00, Wilton's Music Hall 1 Grace's Alley, London
'Once again Georges found himself settled into that same old situation, he and this particular bar stool seemed all too well acquainted by now. Unsure of what his next step should be he had carved his way into a dead end routine that mostly involved nursing a drink night after night whilst a vast array of players came and went around him. Oh, he pined to lay roots down in a more exotic setting but a light wallet and a price on his head meant that his options were few. No, for the time being he was stuck watching the ash from his cigarette slowly gather in the tray beside him.
The house band sparked up a mournful rendition of ‘Willow weep for me’ which seemed to match Georges’ mood perfectly. He took in his surroundings and thought to himself ‘man this place really must have some history behind it’, his musings didn’t last long though as a voice called out from the other side of the bar disturbing his much sought solitude. It was a rough bark that seemed to chop straight through the room, yet it was tinged with a strange lilt that Georges struggled to place.
‘Hey Yew!…yeah, yew…yew know who ‘am talkin’ too.’
With out daring to turn round Georges knew exactly who he was talking to. He listened intently as his accuser crossed towards him immediately spotting a heavy rhythmic tap ringing out on every other step. This guy was packing a peg leg and there was no denying it.
‘Well shiver me’ timbers cap’n, what brings you amongst the land lubbers?’
Georges retorted, his eyes still fixed firmly forward.
‘I wooden’ be quite so cocky were I yew’
‘You going to make me walk the plank?'
‘Don’ take me for a sap Mesta’ Kaplan...lucky fir' yew am feelin' in a generous mood’
'Well ain't that just the cherry on the...'
Georges’ response was cut short as he watched the man place a small wooden box on the bar next to him. Slowly he picked it up, running his fingers over its well worn edges he eventually found the clasp that led to the treasure within. Peering inside he immediately knew what the deal was, he felt his eyes moisten as he swiftly pocketed the box. Standing up he faced the man eyeball to dark glasses to which he responded with a seemingly all too knowing nod. Unsteadily Georges stumbled from the room, it had been a close call which led Georges to think that maybe it was high time he turned over a new leaf.'