John the Barman. (Short story part 2.)

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.

“You’re a star, I loved this when it came out, cried my eyes out first time I saw it live.” Lucifer spun around on the stool to face the screen.
John always spent time looking for anything to do with dancing if he called in at the charity shop next door on his way into work. He took the time to get to know his regulars and he knew Lucifer loved to dance. Lucifer had wanted to go to dance school but his father had forbidden it. It wasn’t because he objected to him prancing around in tights and wearing make-up, his father had plans for what Lucifer was going to do. He had heard there had been a big fight that ended with Lucifer finally being forced to go and run hell.
Lucifer was a nice guy but so misunderstood because of his job as head jailer for his father. Finding a few DVDs was the least John could do to try and cheer the unhappy ex-angel up. Even now, after all this time, Lucifer was still upset at being forced to go into the family business rather than follow his dream of dancing.
“Is your father popping in later do you know?” John asked.
“He should be. I think he wants to go over the budget. How he expects me to keep running things if I can’t employ more staff, I don’t know,” Lucifer said and then drained his drink before indicating with a shake of the empty bottle that he wanted a fresh one.
“So the trial with promoting some of the inmates to overseers didn’t work then?” John asked.
“A disaster,” Lucifer began. “The evil little bastards wouldn’t stop torturing the other inmates. Those mime artists are real sickos; once they start a performance, you can’t stop them.” Lucifer turned his attention to the screen and continued. “In the end, the only way we could stop them was to throw them into the nearest pool of burning oil. Lilith was closest to them and she saw the expressions on their faces and heard their silent screams. Even as they burned, they refused to come out of character and make a noise. It’s one of the worst things I’ve ever witnessed. Lilith was so traumatised she needed a month off work to get over the nightmares. Mime artists are seriously under-rated as performers of pure evil and horror.”
John grabbed another bottle and after opening it, placed in on the bar next to Lucifer who sat bobbing his head with the music from the DVD that had just started. Grabbing himself a double whiskey to banish the image of the burning mime artists, John sat back down on his stool behind the bar and returned his attention to the paper.

Riverdance was reaching its conclusion and Lucifer stood in the middle of the floor, dancing along in perfect time when a couple of new customers walked up the stairs. John looked up as the first of two old men came into view. The old guy put his arm out against the wall, breathing heavily as he reached the top step.
“Two beers John and whatever the old fart behind me wants,” the old man gasped. He then looked over at Lucifer and shook his head in disgust at the dancing Prince of Hell before continuing over to the bar.
The second old man reached the top of the stairs and headed for a bar stool to sit next to the first and was also breathing heavily.
“Your usual?” John asked the second man as he placed the first pint on the bar and started pulling the second pint. The old man just nodded as he tried to regain his breath. Both men had been heavily muscled in their youth but age had robbed them of their strength. John placed the second pint on the bar before grabbing a wine glass from a shelf above the bar and turning to the wine bottles, he filled it with a cheap house red wine.
“When you’re done pouring the girly drink, can we have the pool cues? I’m gonna teach this old fart a lesson in pool again,” the first old man said with a grin.
John placed the wineglass down and turned to grab the cues from the corner where they were kept.
“You never taught me nothing in your life. Your eyesight’s that bad you can’t even see the end of the cue, never mind the balls on the table,” the second old man snapped and picking up his glass he walked off to the pool table. “I’ll rack ‘em.”

With the DVD finishing, Lucifer walked back to the bar and picked up his bottle, he gave the old man with the beers a nod. “Morning Thor, how’s your father?” he asked the first old man.
“Daft old coot thinks he’s still the lord of Midgard, if he’s got two brain cells working, he’s having a good day.” Thor replied and finished off the first pint before accepting the pool cues that John passed over the bar to him.
“Thor, hurry up, it’s your break,” shouted the second old man from up by the pool table. “Morning Lucifer, you want to play the winner?” he added more cheerfully.
“Morning Hercules, afraid I can’t, I’m waiting for Father to turn up. How’s your back holding up?” Lucifer answered the second old man.
“Sore as buggery, damn damp weather always makes it play up,” Hercules replied, giving the small of his back a rub to illustrate his discomfort.
“No catching the balls you two, how am I supposed to make any money if you only pay for one rack a day?” John warned them with a smile as Thor walked over to the table.
“As if we would ever do that, John,” Hercules said, smiling. “We’re the honest hero guys, remember.”
John gave a look that told them that heroes or not, he knew they always caught the balls.
Then he grabbed another bottle off the shelf for Lucifer.
“It’s a shame about Odin,” Lucifer said as he accepted the bottle.
“Age catches up with everyone eventually,” John replied, sitting back down.
“Except you,” Lucifer said with a smile.
“Don’t know; I felt my age this morning. Got talked into a lock-in by a couple of your lads last night, was as rough as a badger’s arse this morning,” John replied with a grimace.
“You shouldn’t let them talk you into lock-ins John. They’d keep you open round the clock if they had their way.” Lucifer answered.

To be continued.