John the Barman (short story) part 12.

This is a re-post of a short story I first began posting in September 2016, when I first joined steemit.
The story was first published in 2013 as an e-book and is based heavily, in location on my old local pub and my good friend who worked behind the bar.

John looked down over the bar at War who lay on the floor grinning, but not attempting to move.
“Death, your brother needs taking home,” John announced, shaking his head.
“Where can I leave his horse? No way can he ride home in that state,” Death said as he looked over to see his brother on the floor.
“You left your horses outside?” John asked, taking an empty glass from a demon. “Another beer Belphegor?”he asked.
“A quick one for the road,” Belphegor answered. Death walked down and dragged his brother back to his feet and sat him down in one of the snugs.
“So, about leaving the horse John?” Death asked.
“You’re not leaving a horse in the ladies toilets again, last time it took weeks to get rid of the smell,” John said. “Can’t you just tie him to the saddle or something?”
“This is War, one of the four horsemen of the apocalypse; you don’t tie one of the horseman to the saddle,” Death said in shock.
“Belphegor, has Lucifer sorted out an antichrist yet?” John asked.
Belphegor shook his head. “No, he’s not interested in having a brat of a kid that does nothing but cause trouble and causes the end of the world.”
John nodded and turned to a battered looking angel sat at the bar. “Bernie, you’re one of the Seraphim, so you know all about the any news on a second coming?” John asked the angel. “Any plans for the green light?”
“To be honest it’s on the back burner. He doesn’t want another bloke bringing a second kid up while he’s an absent father again,” Bernie said. “Also, another child born out of wedlock, first time you can forgive him, but doing it a second time... Maybe different if he was in a relationship but not using protection on one night stands would make him look stupidly careless.”
John looked back at Death and shrugged. “So we have no apocalypse looming anytime in the next millennium then.”
“Not really,” Death mumbled, looking down at his shoes.
“You’ve got your day jobs but you’re not expecting that promotion anytime soon. Come back if you get it, until then, tie him over the saddle and take him home.” John told Death. “Right you lot, time at the bar, haven’t you got homes to go to?” he added, raising his voice.

The night was almost over and the last of the customers started to make their way to the stairs. John noticed the bashful goodbye Death gave to Melanie and the way she watched him disappear out of sight down the stairs. John came from behind the bar and started collecting glasses and empty bottles from the tables in each of the snugs and placing them on the bar. This was the nightly signal for the last of the drinkers to make a move and head for the stairs
. A couple of angels pulled the God of Useless Information to his feet. He had passed out lying on the seat of the end snug. Coming half-awake, they led him towards the stairs and after the first couple of steps, he gained some motor-function in his legs.
“Cheers boys, you know where our new lad lives?” John asked the angels.
“Not got a clue, he can sleep it off at our place and make his way home in the morning after a few strong coffees,” one of the angels replied with a grin.
“I think it’ll take more than coffee to fix his head in the morning,” the other angel said, chuckling.
John followed the three down the stairs and as they stepped out into the street, the air shimmered around them to reveal the angel’s wings. With a single beat of the wings, they lifted off the ground and disappeared from sight. Just as he was about to close the door, he saw the headlights of a car coming down the street. John paused to wait as a taxi pulled up outside the bar. The driver leaned out of the window.
“Hi John, is our Melanie ready for her ride home?” the driver asked cheerfully.
“I’ll just get her for you Muriel, just be a minute.” John replied with a wave.
“Not a problem, give me time for a quick ciggie while I wait,” the taxi driver said, opening his door to get out.
“Those things are bad for you,” John pointed out as the taxi driver got a cigarette out of his packet.
“Even an angel has to have a vice or two,” the taxi driver replied with a shrug.
Muriel was a strange angel, while still classed as part of the heavenly host; he was living full time on Earth after a disagreement with the Archangel Michael. As a result of a comment about Muriel having a girl’s name, Michael was left with a broken jaw and Muriel now split his time between driving his taxi and bare knuckle fighting in the pubs down in the rougher areas of town.

John stood behind the bar and got himself a whiskey from the optic. While he was downstairs seeing off the last of the customers and talking to Muriel, Melanie had collected the empties from around the pool table. Placing his whiskey glass down, he loaded up the glass washer with the empty glasses and put the empty bottles into the crates ready to be taken down to the recycling bins. The day was over, but tomorrow would be another day, and with the customers that walked into his bar he was never certain what that would bring.

The end.

Previous posts.

https://steemit.com/fiction/@alienbutt/john-the-barman-short-story-part-1

https://steemit.com/fiction/@alienbutt/john-the-barman-short-story-part-2

https://steemit.com/writing/@alienbutt/john-the-barman-short-story-part-3

https://steemit.com/fiction/@alienbutt/john-the-barman-short-story-part-4

https://steemit.com/story/@alienbutt/john-the-barman-short-story-part-5

https://steemit.com/fiction/@alienbutt/john-the-barman-short-story-part-6

https://steemit.com/story/@alienbutt/john-the-barman-short-story-part-7

https://steemit.com/story/@alienbutt/john-the-barman-short-story-part-8

https://steemit.com/story/@alienbutt/john-the-barman-short-story-part-9

https://steemit.com/story/@alienbutt/john-the-barman-short-story-part-10

https://steemit.com/fiction/@alienbutt/john-the-barman-short-story-part-11