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Harold's: Paint Thinner and Double Malt
Posted By: A Halo Fan...natic<mikeandrewp@gmail.com>
Date: 18 May 2008, 11:49 pm
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Paint Thinner
"Hey Harold."
"Hello, can I help you?"
"Uh, yeah, gimme a Glenfidditch."
"No Scotch. I've got some two-week-old paint thinner if you want it, and some horse piss, but not much else."
"Hah, give me the paint thinner."
"Sure thing."
"So… no big 'Welcome back!' for me?"
"I know your face, but I must not have seen you in a while…"
"It's James."
"James! Hey, long time, no see. It's been, what, five years now?"
"Yeah, that's about right."
"Jesus man, where've you been?"
"Navy."
"Navy? Uh, didn't you get judged as unfit for military service?"
"They were desperate."
"Hah! I bet they were if they recruited you."
"Oh, piss off."
"Heh, so, what're you doing back here?"
"Oh, just… leave. Say, how's Mary?"
"Oh, uh… She left. Two years ago. She has a New Cookie."
"… Damn."
"Yeah. Hey, you'll want to drink that fast."
"Sure."
"So—"
"Christ on a crutch! Whoo, I've been near hand grenades that weren't as strong as this stuff."
"Don't worry; the second one goes down easier. The first one stuns your gullet."
"I believe it. Refill, please."
"Right away."
"So, what's with this rotgut you're serving, anyway?"
"No good liquor anymore."
"Why's that?"
"The UN passed a new tax last year. Forty percent on all alcoholic berages—"
"Holy crap!"
"Yeah. Most of the microbreweries and distillers have gone out of business. The big ones, the ones who make their ethanol in space, are all making antiseptics for the military."
"Shit-fire."
"That about sums it up."
"Hey, by the way, have you seen Dave or Ben around? How are they doing?"
"Dave joined the third armored about a year and a half ago. Said he always wanted to drive a tank. Ben is still bumping around, popping up here and there. He still puts on a gig for me every now and then."
"Good, good. Say, uh, I need to tell you something, okay?"
"Sure, what is it?"
"Uh, maybe we should go back in your storeroom."
"Why?"
"Just trust me."
"Okay… Hey Cathy, watch the bar for a tick, will ya'?"
"Nice stock."
"Oh, don't mind the labels. Almost all of it's my own make."
"Where's you still?"
"Classified."
"Heh. Hey, what was your new barmaid's name? Cathy?"
"Yeah. I hired her two months ago."
"She looks a lot younger than twenty-one."
"People don't ask questions nowadays."
"Not even the UN police?"
"They don't give a shit, so long as I don't cause trouble."
"Do you…"
"Okay James, what was it you wanted to tell me? Spit it out."
"You need to leave."
"Say what?"
"You need to leave. Get out of here. Not just Toronto; get off Earth. Do it as soon as you can."
"What the hell? Why?"
"Things aren't going well in space."
"What's going on up there?"
"I can't tell you."
"We're losing, aren't we?"
"Yes."
"How badly?"
"Badly."
"Christ…"
"Look, I've got a pass that can get you as far as the moon. Go to the Winnipeg Space Center on the second of May, 'round noon, there's a shuttle there that'll get you as far as Tycho, it's called—"
"I'm staying."
"Look, I'm not kidding, Harold, you need to—"
"No. The Bar and Grill is all I've got. I'm not leaving."
"Christ! Harry, you stay, you die. The Covenant is coming. We're not sure exactly when, but they're going to get here eventually. You need to get out while you've still got time."
"No."
"God damn it, Harry! Damn it!"
"I'm not leaving. You go."
"Christ. Look, is there anyone else you want me to get out instead of you, then?"
"… Cathy. She has her whole life ahead of her. I don't. Give your pass to her."
"Fine. Last chance."
"No. Get Cathy out."
"Damn it. If you say so."
"Thanks."
"I hate to leave you here to die, Harold."
"Let's just say I've been getting used to the idea these past five years. My joints are getting stiff, my arteries are getting clogged, and not even Alka-Seltzer and B1 are enough to end my hangovers these days. I'm getting old. I'll die eventually anyway. But I'm not leaving."
"Alright."
"When are you leaving?"
"Tomorrow. We're heading out to a big base on Reach."
"Reach?"
"Yeah. Hey, what's this?"
"Uh—"
"This is unopened! Hey, I thought you didn't have any Scotch!"
"I don't. Not according to the records. That there's just a figment of your imagination."
"2492 double malt? I love my imagination. Want to have some?"
"I think this justifies an inch or two."
"Great, get some shot glasses."
"Comin' right up."
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