Thursday, 9 September 2010

Last orders at the Apocalypse: Joe Hakim

Always been a bit rough round here,

but since the bomb went off
it’s just got crazy.
How do you take it? Safe or risky?
Want some irradiated water in your whiskey?
Something to eat?
Some crunchy cockroach treats?
At least nuclear fallout
makes the sky pretty.

Pull up a pew, let’s talk.

Been a shit week –
I’m losing my teeth and
those fucking mutants keep giving us grief.
Don’t want them in here, making trouble,
dreadful manners, especially after a skinfull,
and they stink like burnt bacon.

Encountered any bandits on yer travels?
I just can’t stand it…
Why does disaster result in terrible fashion sense?
Mohawks, tattoos, leather and spiked apparel…
might as well be in a fetish club,
fucking idiots.

I like what you’re wearing;
sunglasses, trenchcoat, shotgun and
a three-week beard. Understated.

I expect you’re on some sort of quest.
Looking for a long lost family member,
daughter or brother?
Someone’s death to avenge?
Revenge maybe? Message to deliver?
Am I getting warmer?
Sorry, don’t mean to pry, it’s just that
we get a lot of guys like you in here.
Seen it all, mate, trust me.
Only a matter of time before you
find a side-kick, someone improbably young
good-looking, and then you’ll come across
someone or something that
needs saving. It’s always the same.
You’re the mysterious stranger,
and me, I’m just the tavern owner,
because there’s always a place to drink at
the end of the world.
It’s in the rules.

I’ll stand here, cleaning glasses and
dishing out advice until
the barrels run dry or the town explodes
or the credits roll.

how about that whiskey?

- Joe Hakim

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