A Micro Brewing Of Fiction

What’s Brewing In SuddsVille

Deep in the heart of SuddsVille something was brewing, and a Yankee named Gary ventured over to the other side seeking the truth. Decked out in a traditional pinstripe uniform the business executive carrying a fashionable corporate briefcase curiously investigated the rural area. When the entrepreneur who lived on a street paved with gold crossed the line dividing ideas that were the same but different a happy hour watering hole magically appeared flashing ‘welcome’ in its window.

Opening the dive bar’s front door, the successful image respectfully shouted, “excuse me are you the proprietor?”

“Yes,” an old man answered behind the counter replied, “I am Skipper Huggins, but my friends call me Miller,”

“Okay, Skipper Miller, I wanted to know if you had a designated hitter,”

“This establishment uses no substitutes,” Skipper Miller boasted proudly, “there are enough pitchers behind me.”

“But are they well-seasoned?” Gary asked.

Laughing Skipper Miller took the comment in stride, “with my beer that tastes good and less filling everything keeps flowing.”

“That is good to know,” Gary seemed impressed despite a missing ingredient.

“Now, sir, what can I do for you?”

“Yes, I heard there was something brewing up here,” Gary told him, “And there also a nasty sensation rumbling in my stomach hinting it stinks,”

“Well, I am cutting the cheese,” Skipper Miller confessed.

Smiling Gary found the solution and the problem could easily be solved, “you should take the cheese find some sauce,”

“And get some dough,” Skipper Miller finished the creative idea.

A few weeks later Gary returned, and the renovated small pub glowed with the message, “Drink, Dine And Enjoy The Time.” Fixing his hair Gary went into the New York Style Italian restaurant and had dinner accompanied with a pint.

A Lone Star With A Colt 45

As the midnight bell to the clock down the street bong twelve times, a lone star pecked at her pumpkin pie she ordered along with the local Red Beer Company’s long neck discounted special. Feeling like she did something wrong Donna successfully conjured up happy thoughts about her successful cinema career.

“I have plenty money in the bank,” the community college graduate who found luck being spotted by a slot machine pondered when Ranger Bud entered the scene.

“Good evening,” the nature patrol announced.

“You been hunting deer? Ranger Bud,” the Bartender inquired.

“No, been spending time with my cousin down south putting together rocket displays for the fall,”

Knowing the environmental enforcer used launch missiles to spy on things Donna stayed silent concentrating on making love to the local brew.

“Look who came back, little sweet Donna,” Ranger Bud noticed the gullible innocent character minding her own business, “are you here doing research for a new role? Or?”

“Or what? Ranger Bud,” Donna gave a sorrowful glare, “am I done with fame and fortune?”

“All bills are being paid? Right,” Ranger Bob smirked, “I mean you did not finance any one arm bandit for late-night fetishes,” the sarcasm continued, sending a cringe that flowed through the model's body.

Laughing the friendly good ole boy server handed over a non-alcoholic beverage, “touring Venison Italy in the morning Ranger Bud?”

“Sure am, when dawn breaks,”

Hours passed and Donna got a few hours sleep in the bed that she grew up in and when the alarm went off the heated sun shined bright, “geez its almost high noon,” she noted quickly getting dressed before grabbing a Colt 45. Heading outside intending to confront Ranger Bud returning from the woods with dinner the theatrical tease’s power play started to unfold, “so Ranger Bud, did you get the buck you wanted?”

“Yup, it is going go down well with,” Ranger Bud stopped in his tracks,

“Say, hello to my little friend,” Donna pulled out the Colt 45 popping its top before taking a few chugs, “not only am I now filthy rich but I am over twenty-one.”

“Sis, you took the last one!”