Barstool Sessions II
Stranger Things Have Happened








The morning sun was something Ben was unaccustomed to seeing when
he woke up. Usually mid-day or late afternoon was when the laid-back
bartender dragged himself from the black void he called a bedroom. But
today was different.
Ben rubbed his tired eyes as he felt the sunlight pushing through
his thick velvety curtains. Weak and tired he pulled himself from the
bed and made his way to the bathroom where his shower awaited. At
least that had been the plan. Unfortunately he never made it out of
the bed.
The island native felt something pulling down on him as he tried
to get out of the bed. It was a familiar feeling. There were arms
wrapped around his chest, holding him. Ben wearily turned to look at
the body attached to his.

Short, face framing strawberry-blonde tresses covered the face of
a woman that had easily wrapped herself around the bartender. Her
curvaceous body was covered by a purple satin sheet.
Not usually one to overreact Ben freed himself from the familiar
woman's grasp and hurried from the room. Seconds later he was sitting
in a very feminine bathroom.

Ben splashed freezing water on his face a few times before he
could bring himself to look in the mirror. Staring back at the usually
carefree young man was a worried and deeply saddened version of
himself. Ben sighed and leaned back against the door. "Not again.
Goddess what's wrong with me?"



The young blonde woman stepped into her kitchen, a vermilion robe
covering her hourglass frame, to find a slightly distraught and
familiar man at her table. A cup of French Vanilla coffee and a bottle
of Scotch before him. Smiling slightly she stepped upto the man and
wrapped her arms around him from behind.
"Morning Benny."
Ben flinched under the woman's touch. "Don't Mandy. Where's my
duster, I wanna get going."
Mandy frowned as she sat next to her guest. "Why, you only just
got here. I mean we only did it twice."
Ben took a sip of the "French-Irish" coffee and looked into the
dark, steaming liquid. "Mandy, I just want my coat. Where is it? I
need to get going."
Mandy frowned. "Why? You seemed pretty content coming here last
night. I mean you had me do things we hadn't done before." The young
woman wrapped her arms around Ben again and whispered in his ear. "You
were a nasty boy last night. We got reeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaal dirty. I
didn't think you liked..."
Ben stood up, cutting off Mandy's taunt. "Stop it Mandy. There's
a reason I left you. I had to have been REALLY wasted to come back
here and do what we did. But I don't want to know what we did, all
right. I just want my duster so I can go home, shower, and hope to
forget whatever we did."
Mandy jumped up and stood her ground before Ben. "Why did you
come back here last night? Huh? Why?"
Ben stared down at her. His ice blue eyes gazed deeply into
Mandy's chocolate brown eyes, burrowing deep into the woman before him.
He could feel how angry the woman before him was. "I don't know. Maybe
I just needed to get laid. Maybe I was so drunk I forgot where I was.
I don't know, all I do know is I want to go home. And I need my duster
to do that."
Mandy slapped the man before her, causing his deeply tanned face
to swing to the side with the force of the blow. "Dammit Ben, you love
that goddamn coat more than you ever did me." Mandy wrapped her arms
around herself as she pointed down the hall. "It's down there."
Ben nodded as he retrieved his full-length leather trench coat.
Silently he made his way to the front door, all the while he could hear
Mandy sniffling back tears. Adding insult to injury Ben opened the
door and looked back at Mandy. "If it helps any, I never loved you."
Nothing more was said as he closed the door and retreated down the
stairs.

Mandy watched the door close, her arms unconsciously wrapped
tighter around her body. "That's not what you said last night." Mandy
broke out into painful sobs as she said that.




The leather-clad bartender idled his Harley into the parking area
of his apartment building. Silently Ben parked the bike and leaned
over onto the handlebars. "Ugh. How drunk was I last night? Those
fights with Lilly and Sheila must have been bothering me more than I
thought.
"Of course I haven't seen Sheila in almost two weeks. I guess
she talked Denis into changing her schedule. And Lilly's barely said
more than two words to me since then."
Ben rested his head on his arms and sighed. "This month couldn't
suck anymore." Ben took a deep breath and released it through clenched
teeth.
The bartender sighed heavily as he attempted to sort out the
continuous problem that had become his life. But to no avail. Moments
after the fated words had been a large overweight man can storming down
the building's stairs.

His thinning hair, beer belly, and white tank top gave the man
the look of your average low rent, bad part of town, roach motel owner.
"REILLY!!!!!!!!" the man yelled in a think Polish accent.
The young bartender began hitting his head on the handlebars. "I
was wrong." After a moment he looked up into the fuming face of his
landlord. "Ja mine host?"
The overweight man glared at the young bartender. "Rent, late."
Ben returned the glare from behind his thick mirrored sunglasses.
The former island boy was clearly pissed, as methodical (or cheap as
Robbie would say) as he was Ben hated when people said he owed them
money. Ben growled under his breath as he dismounted his motorcycle.
A string of German and Japanese curses soon followed. The Polish
man stood frozen as the words hit him. Never before had he heard such
wording, the man speaking was adept at changing languages, it seemed as
if everything he was saying was all from the same language.

Ben's diatribe was finished with an exasperated sigh. "The money
for my rent is in your office, Polestanki. Now leave me alone." With
a flourish of leather, reminiscent of 18th century capes, the bartender
spun on his heel and retreated to the warm interior of his apartment,
leaving an awestruck and silent immigrant in his wake.




Holden McNeil; comic book artist, New Jersey native, broke ass
bum, sat in his studio apartment shooting hoops. His mind wandered
over the events of the last few years.
His stupid breakup with Alyssa, Banky kicking him out of their
apartment, the end of "Bluntman and Chronic", the underground explosion
of his one shot "Chasing Amy", and finally his teaming up with a young
artist on a new comic.
Seemingly Holden's luck had run out after "Bluntman and Chronic"
had finished it's final issue. "Chasing Amy" had had a good run, but
it too had been forgotten. Even his stint working on a series with an
unknown had done nothing to help his dead career, even though his
former partner now had a deal in the works with Darkhorse Comics for a
thirty issue run of his series.

Holden lobbed the basketball once more at the hoop in his studio
apartment. Again the ball slid easily through the nylon net. Lazily
the twenty-something artist let the ball bounce a few times before
letting it roll across the cement floor of the studio.
Holden slumped down on the familiar red couch that had once taken
residence within his and Banky's old apartment. Idly he turned on the
television and flipped through the channels, knowing nothing but soap
operas and talk shows would be on at this time of the day. Not caring
about the programs, Holden stopped on a series of commercials, one
catching his attention.

McLeary's Tavern. Just like 'Cheers' only no one knows your
name. We only act like we do.
Ben Reilly, Nightly Bartender and Relations Psychologist. Every
night until closing.

Holden flipped the television off and grabbed his jacket. He
gave his watch a look. At this time of the day, he'd get to McLeary's
just around 2:30. Not knowing if he'd be there, Holden grabbed the
phone and dialed information. Maybe this Reilly guy could help him.





Lillyanna stood before the full-length mirror in her living room.
She could hear the music blaring from the bar beneath her. "Paint it
Black" she noted with disapproval. With a glance at the clock on the
wall she knew all she needed.
"Ben won't be in for another hour." She straightened a single
strand of hair that seemed content only when it fell directly in her
line of sight. "It's been a week since I saw him. It wouldn't hurt if
I just stopped in for a minute."
Lillyanna pulled on her full-length trench coat with a sigh.
"Not tonight, I'm not going to see him and appeal to his damned
fetish." Carelessly she tossed the coat on the arm of the couch and
looked once more at herself in the mirror.
Tonight Lillyanna wore a long flowing black, pleated skirt with
tiny amethysts sewn into it, a black halter style, frilled shirt with
a tasseled bottom which seemed to be designed to increase cleavage, and
a pair of black leather ankle boots. The tiny shirt was tied behind
her neck and wrapped around her back, leaving little of her upper body
covered.
The young Wiccan gave herself a last look before she departed
from her new home. Hopefully she'd run into Sheila before her shift
ended. For the past few weeks Sheila had been working the shift just
before Ben arrived, and she knew that it had to do with Ben's outburst
a few weeks ago.



Standing behind the bar Ben pulled a glass down from the
row of hanging glasses. Slowly he began pouring a glass of Sweet
Vermouth. Sheila stood before the bar, hands on hips. Lillyanna was a
few stools down.
"Dammit Ben, your drunk!" The Asian waitress screamed at her
drink mixing counterpart.
The islander slammed the bottle down on the bar and glared at the
girls. "So what if I am! I know my own limits! I know what I can
handle!" Ben waved an unsteady finger at Sheila. "You! You don't
know anything about me!"
Sheila growled as Ben glared at her. "DAMMIT! You're right, I
don't know anything about you!" She turned from her friend and
coworker. "That's because YOU won't let US know!"
Ben picked up the bottle and returned it to its place on the back
wall, in return he picked up a bottle of Margaritaville Tequila.
"You're right, I don't let you in. And for good reason." As he spoke,
the annoyed young man filled the glass with the amber liquid. "That's
how I am, I DON'T let people in, because people HURT me when I do
that."
Lillyanna placed her hand over the bartender's as he reached for
the glass of liver poison. "Ben. If you're so afraid of being hurt,
then why do you help so many people?"
Ben pulled his hand from the older woman. "I fear nothing!"
Sheila reached over the expensive oak wood bar and grabbed the
man, who was only a few shades darker than her, by his costly satin
shirt. "Dammit Benjamin, stop being a macho pig! We know you're
afraid of being hurt, why can't you just admit it as well?!"
Ben pulled away from his coworker. "Why don't you mind your own
GOD DAMNED business. I never asked for you to meddle in my life!"
Having said his part the slightly inebriated bartender swallowed what
was left of his drink and stormed from his place of business.
Sheila turned to the woman beside her and glared. "You! This is
your fault!"
Lillyanna looked confused at the accusation. "My fault? What do
you mean my fault?"
"You know he prides himself on being fearless, and you go and
point out his biggest self-lie!" Sheila grabbed her coat off the stool
next to her and stormed out of McLeary's. "I hope you're happy!" The
door slammed loudly in the empty bar.


Lillyanna stepped into the bar from the back stairwell. Slowly
her eyes adjusted to the darkness of the bar. What usually seemed like
a bright and enjoyable place now seemed to be filled with a sense of
dread and despair. McLeary's was no longer the place it had been.
From her vantage point a few feet above the rest of the crowd
Lillyanna could see the mid-shift bartender behind the bar, Joey, was
attempting to awe the crowd with a few of Ben's maneuvers, which he
failed at every time. Shaking her head Lilly made her way across the
floor of the bar to where she had seen Denis sitting.

The tavern's owner dutifully scanned over a few dozen ledgers,
papers, bills, and other assorted papers on the table before him. With
an upset look on his face he reached out for his ever-handy pack of
Marlboros. Placing one of the powerful cancer sticks between his lips
Denis began patting himself down, attempting to find his lighter.
A second later a light appeared before his lips, gently torching
the tip of the carcinogenic item. Denis flinched for a second as he
looked upto who was on the other end of the light. Carefully he puffed
away until the cigarette was smoking gently.
The bar owner gently pushed the chair across from him away from
the table, signaling the woman to sit. She complied. Denis smiled as
he tapped the ash off the tip of his smoke. "Isn't it usually the
bartender that lights a person's smoke?" His voice held its usual
snide attitude, but was also carefree and enjoyable.
Lillyanna smiled. "Yes, but I don't see Ben anywhere, do you?"
Denis watched the woman before him as she spoke. Though he
wasn't as skilled at reading people as Ben was, Denis could tell that
even saying Ben's name was a little harsh.

Denis knew about the fights between his bartender, waitress, and
tenant, he also knew that the three friends were all hurting over it.
Ben's pride prevented him from making the first move to repairing
things. Lillyanna's insecurity within the trio hampered her from
making a move. And Sheila's feelings of betrayal by her friends made
her incapable of making the move.
Denis took a long drag off his cancer stick, slowly releasing the
smoke into the air. Lazily he looked across the table at the comely
young woman before him. "He's working tonight."
Lillyanna jerked up at Denis' words. "What?" she asked somewhat
surprised. "Who is?"
Denis glared slightly at his young tenant. "That's not funny.
Who else works everyday with no arguments? He'll be working 'til
close, so will Sheila. If you want to fix things with them tonight's
your best chance. After Sheila put in that request for the mid-shift
it's been hard to schedule her and Ben together, and I never have any
idea what kind of schedule you have."
Denis took a small drag from his smoke. "Come to think of it,
what do you do for a job?" The comedian-actor asked in a very curious
manner. "I've never seen you do any kind of work."
Lillyanna smiled sheepishly at her landlord. "Heh. I don't like
talking about my job much. It kind of puts ideas in people's heads."
Denis gave the young woman a sideways glance. "I'm a comedian,
try me."
Lillyanna sighed as she looked around the bar for a moment. Her
attention stopped on Denis. "Versachi."
The comedian lifted an eyebrow in confusion. "Huh? What did you
just say?"
"I said 'Versachi'. As in the clothing designer. I started as
an intern, but one of the designers got fired during one of my shifts.
My supervisor was complaining about not having enough designs for the
upcoming Christmas line, so I told her I had some ideas. She laughed
at first, until I drew out the design for a dress. I don't remember
now who wore it, but some celeb wore it to the Oscars that year."
Denis nodded as he punched out his smoke. "So, you're a
designer. That's cool. Maybe I'll have you do my next outfit for when
I'm on TV next, he said in a joking manner.
Lilly smiled. "Let's hope you can afford the bosses prices."
The young woman giggled slightly as a look of fear crossed Denis'
older, mature features.




Night had settled gently upon the United States Eastern seaboard,
specifically New York City. The night was still young and a generous
crowd still milled about on the busy streets of the "City that never
sleeps." Among this crowd walked one confused and lonely artist.
Holden gingerly wandered the streets of New York City. The
operator had been nice enough to give him the bar's address, but had
left out directions.
The young artist looked down at the directions he'd printed off
the Internet. He was on the right street, but he couldn't seem to find
the tavern. With a sigh of defeat Holden crumpled the paper and slid
it into his pocket. Lazily Holden lifted his eyes to see a sparsely
filled pizzeria, with that his stomach gave a growl.


Ben sat at a table near the front door, as always he faced the
door refusing to not see the building's exit. At the ringing of the
front door's bell the auburn bartender looked up to see a man enter.
His stance and facial features showed that he was lost and hungry. Ben
watched as the man walked to the front counter and ordered a slice.
The young bartender noticed the slightly older man's outward
appearance reminded him of someone he'd seen once a few years back,
just before he'd left Key West. Shaking his head gingerly and blinking
Ben stabbed at his stromboli and stuffed a forkful of the meaty, cheese
covered dough in his mouth. Ben shrugged the recognition off as
someone he'd met at Sloppy Joe's or another bar back on the island.


Holden ordered a slice of pizza and paid for his meal. As he
paid the counter man a thought struck him. "Hey," he said casually.
The cashier looked up from the draw. "Yeah?" he asked in a thick
Bronx accent.
"I'm kinda lost. I was wondering if you knew how to find
McLeary's Tavern?"
The cashier handed Holden his change and smirked. "Lookin' fer
da An'ser man? Talk ta da guy in da leatah trench. He nose da place."
The cashier pointed over Holden's shoulder to a tanned man sitting by
himself, the person wore what looked to be a heavy leather trenchcoat,
even though it was a warm night.
Holden thanked the cashier and walked over to the leather-clad
man. The artist stood before the man for a moment before sitting down
across from him. As he stood there for a moment a feeling of
recognition surrounded the darkly-clad man before him. Holden waited
to be recognized.

Ben looked over the pile of newsprint sitting on the table. As
engrossed as he was in the story, of Bush's failed attempt at getting
Sadam to allow UN forces into Iraq again, Ben still noticed the man sit
across from him. The island native turned the page he'd just finished
and took a swig from the bottle of Jack Daniel's Hard Cola before him.
Without looking up Ben spoke, his voice even and unobtrusive.
"Who are you, and what do you want?" Ben's hidden eyes continued their
movement down the page as he waited on the man before him to speak.
The man before him grabbed Holden's attention. 'Silent Bob.
That's why he seems so familiar. Facial features, indifferent
attitude, long hair, trench coats, if this guy wasn't ten years younger
and tan I'd swear they were twins.'
Ben turned the page once more. "You're only wasting your time.
When I'm done eating I'm leaving whether you've asked your question or
not." Lazily Ben placed another forkful of stromboli in his mouth as
he continued to read.
Shaken from his thoughts by Ben's attitude, Holden finally spoke.
"I'm kinda lost. I was wondering if you knew how to get to McLeary's
Tavern? I've been looking for the past hour."
Ben scoffed as he closed the newspaper. "Looking for Ben are we?
Let me guess, relationship problem, girlfriend fall for your roommate?
Man, why do people think Reilly knows all the answers, the guy's just a
bartender." Ben's head tilted slightly as his eyes narrowed. "A
mediocre one at that."

With a confused look Holden watched the man before him. "You
know this guy, I guess?"
Ben scoffed again. "You could say that. Seriously, why do you
want to see him?"
Holden slouched in his seat slightly. "That depends. I want to
know how to find him. If you point me in the right direction, I'll
tell you."
Ben lowered his mirrored sunglasses to get a better look at the
older man before him. His eyes roamed over man before him; unshaven,
pale complexion, and big hair. "Jersey."
"What?"
Ben pushed his shades back up on his nose. "You're from Jersey."
It was a statement more than a question.
Holden looked slightly uncomfortable. "Uh...well, yeah. I am.
What's the problem with that?"
Ben finished his drink and pushed the bottle aside. "Nothing. I
just pride myself on being able to know where people are from. The
Tri-Town area, right?"
"Red Bank, yeah. You know the Tri-Town?" Holden seemed
genuinely confused that a New Yorker would know the Jersey Tri-Town.
The last person he met that knew the area turned out to be a lesbian
that broke his heart.
Ben smirked slightly. "Friend of mine attended Henry Hudson.
I've also got a few subscriptions at Brodie's Secret Stash."
Holden smiled. "Okay."




McLeary's was a hustle and bustle of energy, as it was every
night that their famed bartender worked. Tonight was no different. As
Denis stood on the second floor, watching his investment happily, he
took appraisal of the number of people that seemed content to just sit
or stand around drinking anything if they could have even a chance to
talk to the bartender.
Denis knew from the moment he'd seen Ben, at that little
thatched-hut bar, on Key West that he had to make the bartender his.
It took two years of HARD negotiations to get the bartender to come
with him, Ben seemed to have an obsession with staying on Key West.
Since the day Ben began working for him Denis knew that hiring Ben had
been the second best investment of his life, the first being McLeary's.
As the hour droned on Denis noticed that it had grown
significantly more quite, something he'd slowly become used to.
Without having to look at the clock over the bar Denis knew that his
prize barman would soon be entering the building. It seemed to be some
kind of strange ritual among the regulars, as the beginning of Ben's
shift neared the bar slowly began to quite of all voices, save the
jukebox. Denis smiled as he listened to the one hundred and fifty or
so voices slowly droned into near complete silence, any moment now.



Lillyanna sat at an empty table against the wall furthest from
the bar. Denis had been right, if anyone was going to get the trio
talking again, it would have to be her. Ben was too damn prideful, a
trait she was surprised that hadn't killed him yet, and Sheila was
feeling betrayed, a feeling Lillyanna had come to know well.
Gingerly the young designer sipped at her white wine as she took
survey of her surroundings. Still early in the night, but just before
Ben's shift. She knew due to the growing silence in the bar, every
night was the same, the silence seemed to start with one person and
move its way through the bar like a living being. Lillyanna had once
mentioned it to Ben who brushed it aside with his ever constant smile
and laugh.


Sheila walked around the room picking up empty glasses and
bottles, clearing tables, and collecting tips when she noticed it. It
was gradual, but quickly became obvious. The room was quieting,
drastically. It was growing so quiet that someone had actually turned
the jukebox down to a level that wasn't eardrum bursting.
The young waitress had nothing against the Rolling Stones, you
couldn't working at McLeary's, but the level of the jukebox could on
occasion be painful to one's hearing. Sheila placed her tray on the
bar and looked at Joey as he poured a shot of tequila and slid it down
the polished surface.

"Hey Sheila." Joey spoke with a gentle New England accent, more
intone with Vermont and Maine than New York City.
Sheila nodded, "Hey Joe." She quickly began filling her try with
more bottles and mugs of beer. The coming silence meant something she
didn't want to deal with.
Joey placed the bottle of tequila down and turned to the older
woman. "Can you believe this? It's like this everyday. A few minutes
before Ben shows up this place seems like the whole world stops, but
once the guy shows up it seems as if everything had just continued like
nothing happened." The young bartender popped the cap off of a bottle
of Sam Adams Lite. "Weird, isn't it? I've never seen anything at all
like it."
Sheila placed a last mug on the tray and lifted it. "Ben has a
way with people. The customers all seem to have some kind of respect
for him. It's his nature to demand respect, and from the customers
it's well earned. He's helped most of these people out with some of
the strangest problems they've ever faced."
Joey nodded as he placed the open bottle before a random
customer. "I hope that someday I can be half as good as he is."
Sheila walked back into the crowd, her tray lifting over people's
heads. "Let's just hope that you'll remember who your friends are and
why they're your friends if you ever do."




The doors to McLeary's opened slowly, the only sound in what
seemed like the whole building. In the doorway stood two men. The
first one stood slightly over six feet tall with long, blonde hair. He
wore a black beanie over his well cared for hair, and a bright yellow
winter coat, with an orange Quick Stop shirt under it.
The second man was a few inches shorter, with shorter black hair
that came just to his shoulders. He wore a beige Mooby baseball cap
backwards. In his lips lay a lit Nails cigarette. The shorter man
wore a heavy green trenchcoat with black lining. His bearded face
showed the intelligence that his partner seemed to lack.
The taller man looked into the silent bar for a moment before
speaking. "Anyone know where I can get me some phat pussy?! Me and
Lunchbox here are lookin' for..." his fast spoken words were cut off by
a strong hand falling on his shoulder.

Ben stood behind the pair of men for a moment waiting to see what
the taller man would say to his silent tavern. As expected the blonde
fell into one of his familiar idiotic rants. With a defeated sigh the
bartender reached out and grabbed the taller man.
"JAY!" Ben's words were loud and harsh, while at the same time
somewhat sympathetic and obviously annoyed. With a hard pull the young
barman turned the young stoner around, without being forced the shorter
man seemed to mimic the movement. "How many times do I have to tell
you?! Keep away from my bar!"
Jay looked into the covered eyes of the familiar bartender.
Angry, annoyed, and slightly bored, Jay could see all the emotions
there, but as always acted as if he didn't. "What the fuck?! Get yer
fucking hands off me bitch." A gentle shove forced the stronger man's
grip to give out. "What are you some kinda fucking fag? Touchin'
another guy and all that shit." Jay turned to his silent partner.
"Look at this fucker, Silent Bob. All touchy-feely and shit, I always
told ya this guy was a fucking fag."
Silent Bob's attention shifted from his loud, obnoxious,
heterosexual, life-mate to the man standing next to the bartender.
Almost the same height as Jay, he struck Bob as one of the most
familiar people in his life. Immediately he slapped his partner and
pointed to the other man.
Jay slapped his partner back and looked to where he was pointing.
"Holden Fucking McNeil! What the fuck?! I always figured you were
gay, fuckin' Alyssa and Banky, but shit, man. Don't you have any
standards? You doin' this bar trash now?!"
Holden looked slightly confused. "Jay? What the hell are you
babbling about?"

Fed up with the triad going on Ben reached into his coat pocket
and pulled out a cell phone. "Jay, I'm giving you to the count of four
before I punch your ass out and call the cops. I know you've got
enough weed on you for them to keep you overnight at least. One," Ben
quickly tapped in two numbers on the phone.
Jay glared at the older man. "Try it bitch. I dare ya."
Ben shook his head gently as he punched in two more numbers.
"Two. I suggest you and your silent friend leave."
"Fuck you." Jay crossed his arms over his chest, defiantly. At
the same moment Bob chose to gently puff his chest out and nod.
Holden watched the exchange quizzically. He'd never seen Jay and
Bob so defiant before, but at the same time there was a hint of
playfulness to Bob's actions, almost like it was a game to the trio.
"Not if you were that last bitch in the jail block, Bitch.
Three." Two more buttons.
Bob saw the seriousness in the bartender this time. It wasn't a
game tonight; Ben was serious about the cops. Usually he'd get to
three and then push past Jay, but for some reason tonight their little
game was serious. Ben wasn't joking around this time.
Bob grabbed his loudmouthed friend and quickly began pulling him
away. "What the fuck, Lunchbox?!" Bob shook his head at Jay as he
pulled him away.
As the pair walked away Ben could see Silent Bob's patented
movement-speech as he told his tall friend to just let things go.
Without a word the island bartender closed his phone and placed it back
in his pocket. "Gods those two piss me off sometimes." Ben pulled his
long ponytail tighter as he walked to the door. "Stoners..." A low
guttural growl escaped from Ben's throat.

Holden watched as the pair of stoners made their escape. He'd
seen Jay and Bob run from things before, but he'd never seen Bob scared
of anyone before. Holden's attention returned to the man standing
before him. "Coming?" Ben asked.
Quickly the New Jersey native caught upto the younger man. After
that little display he wasn't sure he wanted to piss him off.


The door to McLeary's opened without a sound. The inside of the
tavern was totally silent, the jukebox had even been silenced. All the
patrons gathered waiting anxiously as they watched the pair of men
enter the bar. In a single voice that seemed full of happiness and
glee two words escaped the mouths of nearly every person in the
building. "HEY BEN!"
Sheila stood against the wall watching as the man made his way
across the room to his second home behind the bar. "What is this,
Cheers?!" Ben yelled out jokingly. Even from across the room Sheila
could tell that something was bothering her bartender. For some reason
he walked as if something or someone had just pissed him off, a hard
task that few had mastered or even accomplished when he was sober.

Lillyanna grinned as she heard the entire room greet her friend.
Somehow he had worked his way into the life of nearly every person in
the room. Hopefully by the end of the night she would work her way
back into his life. The best way to begin was be confrontation.
Steeling herself, Lillyanna picked herself up and began making her way
to the kitchen/locker room.



Holden reached out and grabbed the other man's leather-clad arm.
"Hold on a minute." Forcibly he turned the younger man around.
Ben spun on his booted heel. "Don't..." With a gentle force,
Ben shook Holden off his arm. "touch me." With a quick jerk of his
coat's neck, the bartender straightened his duster. "What?"
A quizzical look crossed Holden's face as he looked at the man
before him. "You're Ben? You're the guy I've been looking for?"
Holden's voice slowly grew in pitch and desperation. "I spent all
night looking for you and this bar, and I find you in a fucking pizza
joint?"
Ben smirked. "Yeah, so? It happens. What, you thought I lived
in this place? I may spend ungodly amounts of time here but I do have
a life outside booze, drunks, and stories that other people could
figure out themselves."
Holden's gaze slowly turned to a glare as he listened to the
younger man rant. "So all those things I told you at the pizzeria..."
Ben removed his sunglasses and placed them into his coat's inner
pocket. "McNeil. Everything you told me..." The young bartender ran
his hand down his face. "Look, stick around to the end of the night.
I'll talk to you more then. You put a lot of things on my mind, I need
time to think them over."
Ben looked up at the second floor, his eyes catching with Denis'.
A tiny grin crossed his face as he turned back to Holden. "Okay, look.
Head upstairs. You'll get special treatment tonight; you can stick
around until I close up, the owner won't mind. Just tell him you're my
guest."
Holden attempted to argue, but it was cut short as Ben removed
his duster and made his way to behind the bar. The cartoonist gave the
room an unsteady gaze as he made his way to the staircase, "This is
gonna be a LONG night."

Ben hung his duster in his locker and pulled out a clean towel,
which he placed on his left shoulder. With a deep sigh the young man
placed his head against the cold metal of his locker. "This is gonna
be one long night."
"Hey Surfer, want a hand with that burden?" The voice was eerily
familiar, and soothingly feminine.
"Ugh." Ben slowly rotated his head to the left to get a better
look at the only other person in the room. Just as lazily he rotated
his eyes back to looking at the floor. "Lilly. What are you doing
here? I figured you'd be one of the last people in New York that'd
want to see me."
Quietly the young woman made her way across the room. "Wouldn't
be much of a friend if I let you yelling at me and Sheila, when you
were drunk I might add, keep me away."
Ben scoffed gently. "Figures. Look, I'm sorry 'bout that night.
I wasn't exactly all in my right mind. I really haven't since I got
back from Key West a few months ago. The guy you met and have been
hanging out with isn't me. I'm just a happy-go-lucky bartender that
likes surfing, animè, and helping people. Ever since I went home I
lost sight of my priorities..."
"Shut up."
"...I don't even know what I'm...what'd you say?" Ben's
attention turned back to the woman standing next to him.
The fashion designer chuckled gently at her friend's confusion.
"I told you to shut up. You're rambling." Gently Lillyanna reached
out and placed her small hands on Ben's confused face. "I like you
just the way you are. You're the first person I met in this town that
didn't immediately lie to me. You're the first person I met that
actually seemed to care about someone other than yourself. You're the
first person I met that even seemed to take a liking in me, when you
didn't even know who I was."
Lillyanna's hands moved down from her friend's face to his
shoulders. "I don't care who you think you are. I know who you are.
You're Ben Reilly, 'Bartenderis Exceptionalis'. You're one of a kind,
there's no doubt about that, but you're also my friend." Cautiously
the twenty-something fashion designer wrapped her arms around the
athletic bartender. Soon the pair was in a full hug.
Ben grinned slightly. "Sometimes I really wonder what you people
see in me."
"Same here, you beach bum."



From the door of the kitchen a solitary person watched the
interaction. Sharply Asian features watched the conversation as it had
progressed. Sheila had accidentally walked in on the pair as Ben had
begun his heartfelt apology.
Slowly Sheila backed out of the door. "Glad they're happy."
"Get yer hot Asian tail back in here." The voice froze Sheila in
her tracks. "If I'm gettin' all emotional I'm only doin' it ONCE
tonight." Ben's grin had blown up into a full-sized shit-eating grin.

Ben and Lillyanna stood next to each other grinning. "What? Ya
thought I wouldn't notice TWO of you walking in on me? I maybe crazy
but I'm not stupid. Being slightly empathic does have some advantages,
ya know?"
"I don't want to step in on your moment. Anyway, last time we
talked you yelled at me, what's there to say now?" Sheila leaned
against the doorframe, hands on hips.
Ben took a deep breath and sighed. "Okay, look. I'm an ass, I
know that and I apologize, alright? But I was serious too. You two
don't know me nearly as well as you think you do. But you were right
Sheila, I haven't given either of you a chance to either."


The moment of seriousness was broken as a shattered mirror. In
the doorway stood Denis, a lit cigarette in one hand and an annoyed
look on his face. "What the hell's going on in here? I've got a full
bar out there and Joey's dying. Ben, grab your towel and hit the bar.
Sheila, get a tray and fill some orders. Lillyanna, if you don't mind,
I could us another waitress to keep these two on their toes tonight."

The trio exchanged a glance with each other and then looked to
Denis. For a moment no one said anything. As the seconds slipped by,
the two women heard a tiny rumble. It was the familiar sound of Ben
chuckling.
"On it boss-man." Ben pulled the towel off his shoulder and
jogged past the two women and his boss. His jovial chuckling could be
heard as he made his way to the bar.
Sheila watched as the tanned bartender made his way to his lover.
After a millisecond she turned to Denis. "Sure thing Denis." She
quickly followed Ben's escape.

Lillyanna and Denis were left alone in the room, after a moment's
silence Lillyanna reached into a locker and pulled out a McLeary's
apron. Quickly she tied the black apron with the McLeary's logo around
her waist. "Sure thing Denis. Goddess knows those two need someone
looking after them."
With a gentle smile at the older man, Lillyanna grabbed a tray
and order pad and made her way into the lounge area. The young fashion
designer made no assumptions about her first night as a waitress. She
was just glad to have her friends back.

Denis smirked as the trio made their way to their jobs. "All it
takes is a little persuasion and their like putty in your hands." With
a tiny evil chortle Denis took a drag from his cancer stick before
heading back to his office. There was always paperwork that needed to
be completed.





Holden sat at the bar watching the two women count their tips.
The night had gone over without a single problem. It seemed that in
this place the bartender was king, all the patrons respected that. To
them Ben was more than a bartender, to some he was a friend, to others
he was a source of limitless knowledge, and to a few he was just a
spectacle to watch.
It had become obvious to Holden from the moment he'd entered
McLeary's that Ben was more than a bartender to these people. No one
that left this tavern ever thought of him as just a bartender. The two
women that had worked tonight proved that. The Asian one, even though
she seemed upset at Ben, treated him with the respect of someone that
knew far more than they let on. The other girl, who he thought was
pretty cute, was more at ease around the younger man.

Ben looked down the bar at the older man. He seemed lost in
thought, a state of mind that Ben himself tended to be in often. The
young barkeep smirked as he placed a wine glass on the hanging rack
over his head. As the attentive, sage-like island boy cleaned his work
place he began to hum a familiar tune, which he soon replaced with the
steady whistle of said tune.
"'Help' by the Beatles."
Ben grinned as he looked over to Holden. "Good guess. Most
people don't recognize the classics anymore. Try this one." Ben
cleared his throat for a moment before whistling a new tune. This one
was slower and more melodramatic, with a slightly jazz beat.
Holden looked confused. "I dunno."
Ben grinned and snickered as he cleaned a shot glass. "Steely
Dan, 'Any World.' Not their best, but I like it." Gently he stacked
the glass on the rack behind the bar before turning his attention to
Holden. "So, you ready to hear my thoughts, or what?"
Holden finished off his beer and nodded. "Yeah. I've been
sitting here all night waiting on you."
Ben grinned as he pulled the towel off his shoulder and dried his
hands. "Confucius say, 'Rush not the knowledge you wish to gain, for
in the end you will gain nothing.'"

Lillyanna dropped her tray on the bar. "Confucius never said
that! You just made that up."
Ben grinned and chuckled as he rubbed the back of his neck.
"Yeah, well...it sounded sage-like, right? Right?!"
Both Holden and Lilly scoffed at the younger man's bad attempt at
humor. Lillyanna picked up her tray and made her way to the kitchen
area. As she passed Holden, she tapped his shoulder.
Leaning down the brunette woman whispered to Holden, "Listen to
him. He may act like an idiot, but he's pretty astute." Standing up
she looked at Ben, "Benny. I'll be in back cleaning if you need me."
"Ok." Tentatively Ben watched as she walked through the door.
Just as Lillyanna passed the threshold Ben piped up. "And don't call
me Benny. That's an Irish name, I'm a Scot."
With a huff Ben turned back to Holden and scowled slightly. "She
just loves getting under my skin. The problem is she's far too good at
it. Another beer?"
Holden nodded and rewarded with another bottle of Pete's Wicked
Ale. Something Denis felt was an insult to real beer.
"Where to start?" Ben sighed as he reached behind his head, his
slender fingers tugged on the tiny black elastic band holding his
ponytail up. His long, thick auburn hair fell gently onto, and past,
his broad shoulders. "I am not at all awed by what you've told me.
Actually, some of the things you told me mirror things that have
happened in my own life. So, lemme say that I understand."
Holden scoffed. "Yeah right. How many guys do you know that
have nearly forced their girlfriend, who they love and loves him back,
and his best friend, of who knows how many years, into a fucking
threesome!" A slight tinge of venom could be seen in Holden's deep
brown eyes, but under that there was the obvious sight of regret.
Ben calmly stared down the irate man as he filled a mug with
beer. "Your lucky. I actually succeed. I've had every straight man's
fantasy. Two women at once." Gingerly he sipped at the beer before
placing it on the bar-top. Ben's deep ice blue eyes were downcast,
searching the dark liquid before him, as if it had the answers.
"Men the world over have been envious of me for that one simple
act. If they knew what it cost me, they'd pity me first." Ben's eyes
rose from the glass of Guinness and met Holden's. "In a way I envy
you. You lucked out; your friends spared you the pain of that mistake.
You may have lost your friends due to your suggestion, but trust me.
It would have been worse had you gone through with it, trust me."

Holden sat quietly as Ben spoke, slowly the artist began to calm
down and his anger turned to sympathy. As he listened he noticed that
the young man before him really did understand him. This bartender
standing before him really seemed to understand, more than he thought
anyone would.
Holden drained his glass before sliding it to Ben. "I'm sorry, I
didn't know."
Ben gave a tiny, gentle smile. "Its no big deal." Ben picked
the glass up and placed it in the sink behind the bar. "Now about your
other problem."
Holden sighed as he watched the younger man wipe his hands on the
towel that he'd been carrying on his shoulder all night. "Yeah, about
that, what do you suggest?"
Ben sighed as he swirled the dark, frothy liquid in his mug. "I
suggest nothing. I can't tell you how to get your friend back. Banky
left, that's all there is to that. Give him time to forget what
happened; then approach him. Don't talk like old friends, because
you're not any longer, talk like two mature adults that have something
of importance to discuss. But don't start off your conversation with
that, be careful and start off with something safe.
"Alyssa is gone. I'm sorry, but you lost her. Maybe someday
you'll find her again, but I wouldn't hold my breath if I were you.
There are other women out there, find one you like and take things from
there. And whatever you do, don't ask about the ex-boyfriend, that's
always dangerous territory with any woman."
Ben threw back his head and downed all of the liquid in the mug.
With a loud whoop he slammed the glass on the bar. "If I can do
anything with the things I've learned from my mistakes, I'll make sure
no man makes them again."

Holden's eyes had drifted to the bar. His heavy breathing was
the only sound that could be heard in the empty tavern. The artist's
mind wrapped around the things the bartender told him. Much of it were
things that had seemed obvious to him, but things like his being lucky
not to have succeeded with his plan were so unexpected that he didn't
know how to react.


Lillyanna had pulled her apron off and stuffed it in the locker
she'd gotten it from. Behind her, placing her own apron away, was
Sheila. With a deep breath Lillyanna turned around. "Sheila, can we
talk? Woman to woman?"
Sheila turned around to face the brunette woman before her. A
quizzical look crossed Sheila's gentle Asian features. "What about?"
Lillyanna fidgeted nervously, she was never very good at
confrontations like this. "It's about Ben."
Sheila turned and pulled her bag from the locker. "I'd rather
not." She closed the locker door heavily. "I've known him longer than
you have, and what he's said is right. He doesn't open up, to anyone.
Ben likes his secrets; it gives him a feeling of control over what he
feels is a chaotic life." Sheila swung the brown teddy bear bag over
her shoulder.
"Besides that. He's also our friend. He deserves a second
chance. You owe him that much." Lillyanna's deep brown eyes, which
seemed to take on a muddy green tint, looked pleadingly at the other
woman. "He did get you and Chang together, didn't he?"
The familiar face of Chang, Sheila's lover flashed through the
woman's mind. Deep black hair that looked as dark as night, perfectly
shaped almond brown eyes, tan skin that covered the thin form of a
martial artist... Sheila shook her head to clear the thoughts.
"Alright, you win. I'll give him a chance."
Lillyanna smiled happily as she jumped at the taller woman,
Sheila only stood a head taller than Lilly, embracing her in a bone
breaking hug. "Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you. You won't regret
your decision." The joyful young Wicca released her friend from her
grasp with a giggle.
Sheila couldn't help but smile. Lillyanna's smiles seemed
slightly contagious. "Let's hope not."
Together the pair walked to the entrance to the tavern. Just
before the door leading to the tavern area the women stopped. They
could easily hear Ben's voice on the other side. It seemed that he'd
slipped into 'Advice-Mode' and was helping his latest pseudo-psychology
target.
This time it was different. Ben wasn't just giving advice, this
time he was speaking openly. His voice carried none of his usual sage
attitude, now he was speaking with a slight hint of resentment and pain
in his voice. The sounds of his Caribbean accent could be heard
slipping into his speech.


Ben placed his glass into the sink with Holden's. "Trust me when
I say I understand you man. I grew up in Key West. Sexual tolerance
was taught to us along with our ABCs. Hell, the majority of my exes
back home were either bisexual or have gone straight to lesbian."
Holden looked up at the man before him. Even though he couldn't
see his face Holden knew that he was speaking the truth. "Doesn't that
make you feel insecure? Knowing that you're the last guy they slept
with? Kinda says you were so bad that it completely turned them off
from men all together."
Ben's tightly muscular chest rose and fell with the obvious
sounds of laughter. It was soon followed with the howl of laughter
that escaped Ben.
After close to a minute of pure laughter the bartender had been
forced to grab onto the strong oak bar to keep his balance. As he
leaned on the bar Ben began hyperventilating as he gasped for breath.
Ben's strong hand pounded on his chest as he tried to regain his
breath. After a number of failed tries Ben finally stopped laughing
and looked up at the people before him. Concern etched on all their
faces.

The sound of uninhibited laughter reached the second story of the
tavern. Denis recognized the sound as Ben laughing. Curious the older
man exited his office and made his way to the tavern floor.
Before he even touched the bottom of the staircase, the comedian
could see something unusual. Ben was bent over the bar gasping for
breath. Concerned for his favorite bartender's health the building's
owner made a mad dash for the bar.

From the back room the sound of laughter was obvious. Ben's loud
explosion of glee had been unexpected. The outburst had easily
frightened the pair of women listening to the story.
Sheila, having known Ben longest, turned from the tavern to the
other woman. "Well that was unexpected."
Lillyanna tore her eyes from her friend. "Quite. Opening up to
a complete stranger, sharing that bad a memory, and then busting a gut
like that. I swear I'll never understand that man."
Sheila watched as Ben fell onto the bar gasping for air. "Ben!"
With a shout she threw the doors open and ran into the tavern,
Lillyanna close behind her.

As Ben pushed himself off the bar, he wiped his eyes free of
tears. "Oh." He wiped his eyes again, his breathing heavy and uneven.
"That...was good. Insecure, HA!" Ben grabbed his side in slight pain.
"Please, don't do that. I'll open an old wound if I laugh like that
again."
Ben took a deep breath as he looked at Holden. "No McNeil, I
don't feel bad about it. The first time I did, but after a while I
turned the whole thing around. I soon began telling myself that after
having such a perfect specimen of the male gender of the human race,
that those women were so satisfied that no man would ever do again."
Ben's slightly pained features contorted into a deep, happy,
unexpected, shit-eating grin.
His grin was soon replaced by a look of pain as a pair of
feminine hands connected with the back of Ben's head. "PIG!" Ben's
neck jerked forward from the force of the hits. "OW!"

Sheila and Lillyanna glared at Ben, one on each side. Lilly
stood with her arms crossed under her voluptuous, heaving bosom.
Sheila's long acrylic nails rapped on the highly polished bar top as
she drummed her fingers on it.
"That..." Sheila stated angrily.
"...had to..." Lillyanna continued venomously.
"...be the most..."
"...sexist comment..."
"...you have..."
"...EVER MADE!!!" the pair finished in perfect unison, each voice
was filled with equal parts venom and anger.
"Do you have anything to say for yourself?!" Lillyanna growled.
Ben gently rubbed his head as he looked from one woman to the
other and back. "What CAN I say?!" His words were pleading and
curious, as if he knew that whatever he said would sound fake. "Yer
both angry at how Ah deal with mah problems." Without noticing, Ben's
voice had slipped back into his natural, relaxed Southern. "At the
lowest points in yer life, ya need a way ta pick yaself up. And Ah
did, all it took was some twistin' the views of things but it worked,
an that's what matters. Right?"

Quietly Denis and Holden succeed in removing themselves from the
erupting argument. Denis had grabbed Holden by the collar of his shirt
and pulled him from his stool and towards one of the tables near the
front door.
"Is he gonna be okay?" Holden asked with a hint of fear in his
voice. The man that had put the worst of his problem into perspective
was now in a position where he needed help himself.
Denis placed a reassuring hand on the younger man's shoulder.
"Don't worry about him. Ben's gotten himself into and out of worse
situations. The girls'll yell for a bit, he'll take the abuse, he'll
apologize, then get 'em wasted enough to forget."
"Seems kinda underhanded to me."
Denis smiled at the bearded man. "All's fair in love and war.
Even though he'll never admit it, he loves those girls. Not enough to
bed either of them, more like sisters, but he loves 'em none the less."
Holden smiled as he watched the fight ensue. "I guess stranger
things have happened."







The Dude Slayer sits at his desk yawning. A half empty 3-liter
bottle of Mellow Yellow and an empty coffee pot sit within arms reach
of him. Behind his opaque mirrored sunglasses TDS scans the words
written on the monitor before him.

The heavy cedar door of the office flew open. Vampboy stood in
the threshold. In his hands he carried a large box with a series of
holes drilled in the sides of it. He dropped the box loudly on the
floor, causing The Dude Slayer to look around his monitor.

TDS: What the fuck? What's that?
VB: Dunno. It just came Fedex International. The postage is
from New Zealand. You think it's those 'Rings' props we ordered?
TDS: *head shakes gently* Nah. Those won't be here for at least
another two weeks. Well grab a crowbar and open it.
VB: 'Kay. *jogs out of the room*
TDS: *stand and walks to the box* So, Chibis. You've finally
returned. I'm not unhappy to see you, but I'm not entirely happy
either. I've begun to enjoy the quite around the archive with you
three gone. But good things never last long.


In the archive galley Firefingers and Vampboy stand chatting. Firefingers
is in her usual black patent leather pants, red leather jacket with flame
designs covering it, and a white lace tie-poet's shirt that stretched over her
generous chest. Vampboy leaned against the refrigerator wearing his usual black
silk shirt, baggy black casual slacks, obsidian black biker boots, but his
lightweight trenchcoat was missing.

VB: Yeah so I dropped the box off in his office. I think the Chibis are
finally back. I can't think of any reason for the holes in the box.
FF: Makes sense. I was getting used to the quiet though. With those
three around its like we have kids running free. That can't be good for Dude
and his writing.
VB: *shrugs* Who knows. I figure by now he's used to them.
FF: I guess. So does Kevin Smith know that he's borrowing Holden and his
problems for this story?
VB: Nope. And I doubt that Denis Leary knows that he and "McLeary's
Tavern" are being used in these fics either. I just hope that they both know
that Dude Slayer's not making any money off this and that this is all being done
for the hell of it.
FF: *nods* Well you better run. You know how he gets when his orders
are ignored.
VB: Yeah. Him and his fucking god-complex. Someday it's gonna bite him
in the ass.
FF: Tell me about it.

Vampboy jogs off with crowbar in hand.

FF: *looks at camera* You can get in touch with The Dude Slayer at
the_dude_slayer@yahoo.com
He's always glad to hear from people. Fans, flames, whatever he'll listen and
respond. So write. Until next time


Ja ne.
HH