Monday's had become the bar shift

God put on the back burner
a little bit below the last circles
of hell and played around with it
only when he was tired of jerking off
the rest of the universe.
You think things like that after
being interviewed by homicide
detectives wired on black coffee,
Black Beauties and Miller Lite.
The clowns they're arresting
downtown on serious felony raps
I probably threw out of the bar
just before they attempted murder
and mayhem indoors.
"You're just getting paranoid,"
Never Misses Last Call says,
"I worked Monday nights for years
and nothing ever happened."
"Well, you can have them back anytime
you want. There was this guy who
looked like Jack Nicholson weirding
out in “The Shining” doing kamikaze
shots and talking with homicidal
invisible significant others.
That's normal, right? I've never
aspired to be a headline on
the Local News Section, that's
more your style, isn't it?"
"I thought you liked maniacs
and suicides, rumor has it you're
nickname at The Rib was Dr. Death."
"That's old news. Maybe if I were
you, I'd stop pissing me off.
Who knows, I might live up to
my past reputation at your expense."