Sal Buttaci walks into a bar…our latest contest entry

Seen here are Peggy Dobbs, Gary, Derek and Thorn.  We drank Sal  under the table Oh libation-laden Literati! Sal Buttacuci has staggered into our contest, Wingnuts. I always thought St. Pauli was the mafia guy that got rubbed out in the Sopranos, but apparently not.              Instead, she’s part of …

Seen here are Peggy Dobbs, Gary, Derek and Thorn.  We drank Sal  under the table

Oh libation-laden Literati!

Sal Buttacuci has staggered into our contest, Wingnuts. I always thought St. Pauli was the mafia guy that got rubbed out in the Sopranos, but apparently not. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Instead, she’s part of Sal’s harem.

            A WOMAN WALKS INTO A BAR

by

Sal Buttaci

Picture this. A vicious alley cat on its ninth go-around gets bagged, tied to a cinderblock, and dropped to the murky floor of San Diego Bay. Then, like a phoenix (or felinix) she rises to the surface reborn for life number ten.

Along with Sully, Clark, Dobbs––the nutty crew at AWWY pressed beer-belly up at Bar Rocker, I put away a blond harem of tall St. Pauli Girls till my heavy-lidded blood-shot eyes nearly miss her stagger into the haze. The cat is back.

My onetime love, joyously presumed dead, has returned looking every bit a Mary Shelley creation. Corinna, my former wing woman on nightly flights of passionate highs, ravaged now by wrinkles and booze, reeks of stale Tabu.

I’ll just have to wing it, I tell myself, but when I turn to my beer bros to share the bluesy news, my tongue trips into malatropian gibberish, “Sorn Thully, why mife!” to which Thorn laughs uproariously, spraying Bud foam in my ashen face.

Corinna’s long hair once cascaded in a coal-black fall, a sweep a la Veronica Lake patching one of her sparkling eyes. Now it’s gray-streaked, dirty, knotted, and those svengali eyes, absent of sparkle, stare vacantly ahead. The wicked witch of the West.

“Buy me a drink,” demands Corinna, but Thorn Sully points to me. Corinna’s memory is soaking in booze. She doesn’t recognize the man who once won her heart, then gave it back.

I point to Clark.

**********************

An intern serving up some pleasure at A Word with You Press

 

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BIO

 

Salvatore Buttaci is an obsessive-compulsive writer whose work has appeared widelyHe was the 2007 recipient of the $500 Cyber-wit Poetry Award. His poems, stories, articles, and letters have appeared widely in publications that include New York Times, U. S. A. Today, The Writer, Writer’s Digest, Cats Magazine, The National Enquirer, and Christian Science Monitor

 

His collections of short-short fiction, Flashing My Shorts and 200 Shorts, are available in book and Kindle editions at  http://www.kindlegraph.com/authors/sambpoet

 

He lives the happiest of lives with his wife Sharon in West Virginia.

29 comments

  1. Stars Fall On My Heart
    Stars Fall On My Heart says:

    *taps Sal on the shoulder* He’d actually be spitting Sam Adams at you LOL

  2. Glclark says:

    You’re top of the heap, Sal. Seems me and you keep running into each other in saloons – (flashing back to the Bird Cage Saloon in your previous story where you FLASHED everyone). Humor looks good on you, Sal. My hat’s off to you.

    • Salvatore Buttaci says:

      Does Sharon know what? I already told her the adventures of my life and she knows our fridge’s been holding a six-pack of Dos Equus since my left knee first went out in ’09. There ain’t no St. Pauli Girl who could come close to my Sharon! Cheers!

  3. Salvatore Buttaci says:

    Keep these comments coming! I don’t mind having my ego stroked. It’s much better than tossing back beers that hang you over the next morning. Last time that happened to me the Vietnam War was still the war of the day.

  4. Diane Cresswell says:

    What a picture of words Mr. Sal. That last line did me in. Kudos to winging it!

  5. 1948pdobbs says:

    Sal,
    Discus must have gotten word that we were talking via FB messages and did whatever it is they do so that novices like I am could get my comments through. AS I told you, I really got a kick out of your story and you had me in good company. You’ll notice in the picture Thorn placed himself where ELVIS was sitting. Next time he disappears we’ll just have to say, “Elvis has left the building.” Blessings, pd

  6. Thorn
    Thorn says:

    I see that a lot of you know Sal personally or on line and I share your sediments–oops! Sentiments! that Sal tells a great story… Can I ask you all to share the love? There are other stories equally entertaining by other writers, and for some of them the only reward they get for their efforts is the feedback and appreciation from the readers who comment on their stories.
    Browse through the other stories and be prepared to be amazed at the quality that shows up on this site, and maybe even try entering the contest yourself? Thanks! Thorn, predator-in-chief

  7. I’ve been inspired by all the people around me who just want to write, or tell a story. I think in audiobooks, and I could hear the spray and slur. You paint a wonderfully bittersweet picture in this story. Can’t wait for a new contest post so I can read more of your stuff!

    • Salvatore Buttaci says:

      Thanks, Mike. (You have a river out back? We have a creek and many’s been the time I rode on it without a paddle).

  8. diana_SD says:

    Damn, I had this brilliant idea to use my AWwYP cohort as wingmen in my story, and then Sal goes and does it so beautifully, I could never dare to try. Nice going, Sal. I’ll send some aspirin over–and a mirror.

      • diana_SD says:

        Wait? You weren’t there? Oh, but you’re British. You hang out in classier places, eh what? But now you’ve given me an idea. I wonder if I could sell my back story on eBay to use as character filler in novels. My name doesn’t even have to be changed to protect the innocent.

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