John the Barman part 5 (The final part of an original short story.)

“Excuse me,” said a little voice.
Both War and Death looked down to see Melanie wearing a Valkyrie helmet and balancing a stack fifteen or so pint glasses. “I need to get through to behind the bar please,” she added with a big smile.
“You’re human,” War said as he stepped back to allow her through. “John, why is there is a human female wearing a Valkyrie helmet in your bar?”
“She’s collecting glasses for me but not sure about the helmet, she’s my barmaid. If you came in on an evening you’d know that Melanie works here, has done for a few months,” John said as Melanie walked behind the bar and headed for the pot washer.
“Oh he finally listened to everyone and hired someone. It’s about time he got some help in,” Death said to his brother War.
Before John could reply, he was called away to serve one of the Mayan gods who stood at the bar swaying drunkenly, grinning at his reflection in the mirrors on the wall behind the bar. As John stood in front of him, the grinning god held up the empty bottle of Jagermeister and his grin got even wider.
“Another bottle?” John asked, the Mayan God nodded happily and held up two fingers. “Another two bottles coming up,” John said, shaking his head.
“I think she seems nice,” Death said with a smile, looking down the bar to see Melanie walking back towards them.
“You think everyone is nice,” War replied gruffly. “And I didn’t say she wasn’t nice, just that she was a human.”
Melanie reached the end of the bar where they were standing and sat down on John’s barstool.
“Hi, I’m Melanie, don’t think I’ve seen you two in here before,” she said, smiling at the two brothers.
“We don’t usually come in here on a night,” Death answered, returning her smile.
“We have other commitments,” War said. “But as we got back from our business trip early, we called in for a drink on our way home.”
“Yes, we usually spend our nights playing Warhammer with our other two brothers,” Death added. “We’re starting the Dark Vengeance game next, so we’re all looking forward to that.”
“Erm, that sounds fascinating. What’s that?” Melanie said almost convincingly, but War and Death missed the subtlety of someone being polite.
“Oh it is, we weren’t sure about it at first, were we Death?” War added, brightening up.
“We thought it would be a bit geeky, I mean the four horsemen playing a war game,” Death said, warming to the topic of conversation.
“We’ve all got right into it though, and now we go to all the conventions. I’ve been one of the top five players in the world for over ten years now,” War said with pride.
“Wow, that’s really amazing,” Melanie said, and grabbed her glass to take a drink. Taking her chance with the pause in conversation caused by her taking her drink, she decided to change the subject. “I overheard that strange little man down at the other end of the bar talking when I was loading the pot-washer. Do you know how many people get killed each year by falling coconuts?”
The bar suddenly fell silent; every customer felt an instant build-up of energy and turned to look at its source. War was surrounded by an aura of pure rage as he looked at the barmaid Melanie. If anyone had been standing outside the bar looking up into the night sky, they would have seen a large swirling vortex of clouds and bolts of lightning doing a great impression of a strobe light appear for a couple of seconds as War fought to control himself.
“I believe it’s somewhere near one hundred and fifty, but this year the numbers may be up a little. Now if you would excuse me, I need the bathroom,” War answered through gritted teeth. Giving a forced smile, he walked down towards the toilets, a pathway cleared to let him through. As he entered the toilets, the occupants of the room gave out a collective sigh of relief and after a second, conversation returned.
“Is your brother alright?” Melanie asked nervously.
“It’s probably just a little indigestion, foreign food always upsets him.” Death lied and drained his glass nervously, hoping Melanie would let the matter drop.

“Last orders at the bar.” John shouted. Over half the customers had left anyway and the remaining ones were drunk or well on their way. The Valkyries had left to go looking for a club. The four Mayan gods had joined them, while others had just drifted off, knowing a day of work loomed a few hours away. Melanie sat talking to Death as she had done for most of the night. War had sat playing gooseberry for a little while before deciding to get drunk. With War, it didn’t take too much, as he didn’t tend to drink. Five pints was his usual limit, but tonight he had managed eight. Staggering up to a bar and sitting on a stool on the second attempt, he waited to be served. War slouched drunkenly at the bar and tried his best to make both his eyes focus on John. “Ya know what? I’ve never understood that saying ‘Faster than a speeding bullet’.”
“Why’s that War?” John asked as he refilled his glass.
“Well, it’s like this,” War replied finally getting his eyes under control. “Have you ever seen a bullet that sauntered along taking in the scenery and pausing to talk to random people on its way to its target?” War sat up straight and again lost control of his eyes, but his point had been made. Then his sense of balance also left him and he fell backwards off of the barstool. 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.

Thanks for reading John the Barman, if you missed any of the earlier parts you can find them here :

Part 1 https://steemit.com/writing/@alienbutt/john-the-barman-part-1-an-original-short-story
Part 2 https://steemit.com/writing/@alienbutt/john-the-barman-part-2-an-original-short-story
Part 3 https://steemit.com/writing/@alienbutt/john-the-barman-part-3-an-original-short-story
Part 4 https://steemit.com/writing/@alienbutt/john-the-barman-part-4-an-original-short-story

Upvote and comments are always welcome.
Just before you go here is the advert for my other stories, yes there is more so this is not really the end.