Madness, the Jazz beat, and the followers of passion, the lovers, the embracers sit by the window, keeping themselves to themselves. The lush in the corner with his bucket sized glass of reflecting red. I sit by the bar tapping my feet to the beat. The band plays flowing from sax to beat to sax. I sip my Jack Daniels and crunch on the ice with my back teeth. I notice the clock above the bar hadn’t changed for a couple of hours, it really did feel like time had stopped, but I knew it was just the clock… I love Jazz and Blues bars, the beat of the music, the smell of whiskey and smoke, dancing a mix in my nostrils, the dimly lit fiery faces of the followers as the flickering candles seemingly join in that same dance. Jazz has that effect on everything, it sends out its beat and things start to flow, like water drip drip dripping, snake like weaving oozing then SPASH! then BANG! goes the drummer on the hazy stage keeping the flowing groove with his right hand, the left pulsating with complete and utter energy. With the beat slamming and the sax weaving, my mind drifts away. I scratch my face; it always gets itchy when I haven’t shaved for a day or two. I gotta get some food before I waste away. I yell across to the barman who as usual is reading his newspaper.

            “Hey Sam, Those words will rot your mind.” he looks up at me

            “You wan Somethin’ Joe?” come to think of it I did need another drink, I nod and Sam walks over and starts to fill my glass. Sam was a big fella, nearly seven feet tall and nearly that wide, he had a jaw to match, he had a sunken old and evil look in his eyes; he was the kind of person you see on a dark night walking towards you and you’d cross to the other side of the road to get out of the way, Evil looking bastard. Sam used to be a street fighter in the back alleys of London, but he says his heart isn’t in the fighting any more, said he had found God. I handed Sam the money for the Jack and he went back to his paper.

            “You got any food Sam? I’m wasting away here” after just sitting back down at the end of the bar to read his paper Sam looked up as though irritated at yet another interruption.

            “Jus’ them pork sratchin’s.” Sam Gave a nod to a grubby looking packet under the cigars behind the bar, I looked at it. I don’t think I could face eating roast pig skin, covered in salt and e numbers, let alone the grubby looking package of them sitting behind the bar. I must have made a disapproving face because Sam shrugged his massive shoulders and said.

            “Suit yourself, but you’re the one who’s wasting away.” He was right I needed food, I hadn’t eaten a good meal for about a week and the Jack was feeling as though it was starting to burn a hole through my stomach lining. I nodded at Sam and choked down my drink and stood up.

“See you soon Sam.” The Jazz was still twisting its dancing path around the bar; it had taken on a moodier tone and had slowed. I looked over at the lovers in the corner by the window and laughed to myself, I’d never seen such ugly people. They both looked like they’d been hit face on by a piano falling from a great height. How could people that ugly ever be happy with themselves, let alone another extremely ugly person? I suppose there’s someone for everyone. I strolled past them going back to the thought of getting food in my belly. As I opened the door the heat of the night swept in though the smoky mist of the dim interior, the smoke spun and danced with the hot disruption of the moving heat, it waving seemingly with the music, which faded as the door shut behind me. Where the hell am I going to find food at this time of night?