"They say the disease is spreading fast," the woman hissed like a roasting lamb.
A fatter woman sitting next to her said, "God's bane, it is. Wiping out the sinners."
"If t'were wiping out the sinners, dolt, then we'd be living in Paradise, now, wouldn't we?"
The reeking sour smell of the tavern spread like a lingering fart in the small dark room. A man snorted loudly into the silence and a wooden chair scraped along the floor with a stutter.
The first woman stared into her mug while the other lifted her head from her own. "If this is paradise, than I should've spent more of my life committing sins."
"I wouldn't mind committing sin with newly widowed Ivan Shoemacker."
"That's not funny, Mildred. I hear that man crying in the dark hours of the night. He really loved his wife, I think."
A voice in the distance sang loudly, a merchant from the street outside. "Remedies! Cures! Tonics!"
Glug. The watery beer went down more smoothly now. "I think he could really love me. In the dark hours of the night. S'better than cryin!" She swallowed a hiccup with more beer.
The voice grew louder, just outside where the women sat. "Ward against the plague! Let the angel of death pass over your house! Buy this tonic!"
"You think a tonic is going to do anything?"
Her glass was almost empty. "Money's not gonna do you good if you're dead. That's what I figure."
"Same reason why the merchant has nothing to lose. Customer get sick, they can't get mad and get their money back. They don't get sick? Tonic worked, didn't it?"
-------
His hair was getting long. It was growing into his eyes, wavy and shining in the afternoon sun. George the pirate walked down the pier, feeling the inside of his mouth with his tongue. It was dry. The ocean air was good to a man, but, damn, did it leave you thirsty. The Mermaid's Ankle looked like a good place for an ale. George pushed his way in through the door. And no crowds; just the way he liked it.
"Hey there, sister," he said, relaxing against the bar's counter.
The barmaid looked around for who he was talking to. "I'm afraid you've walked into the wrong tavern. I'm not your sister. And you're not get anything without payin." Her mouth hung open after she spat out her words, and the vein in her neck stuck out aggressively.
A fatter woman sitting next to her said, "God's bane, it is. Wiping out the sinners."
"If t'were wiping out the sinners, dolt, then we'd be living in Paradise, now, wouldn't we?"
The reeking sour smell of the tavern spread like a lingering fart in the small dark room. A man snorted loudly into the silence and a wooden chair scraped along the floor with a stutter.
The first woman stared into her mug while the other lifted her head from her own. "If this is paradise, than I should've spent more of my life committing sins."
"I wouldn't mind committing sin with newly widowed Ivan Shoemacker."
"That's not funny, Mildred. I hear that man crying in the dark hours of the night. He really loved his wife, I think."
A voice in the distance sang loudly, a merchant from the street outside. "Remedies! Cures! Tonics!"
Glug. The watery beer went down more smoothly now. "I think he could really love me. In the dark hours of the night. S'better than cryin!" She swallowed a hiccup with more beer.
The voice grew louder, just outside where the women sat. "Ward against the plague! Let the angel of death pass over your house! Buy this tonic!"
"You think a tonic is going to do anything?"
Her glass was almost empty. "Money's not gonna do you good if you're dead. That's what I figure."
"Same reason why the merchant has nothing to lose. Customer get sick, they can't get mad and get their money back. They don't get sick? Tonic worked, didn't it?"
-------
His hair was getting long. It was growing into his eyes, wavy and shining in the afternoon sun. George the pirate walked down the pier, feeling the inside of his mouth with his tongue. It was dry. The ocean air was good to a man, but, damn, did it leave you thirsty. The Mermaid's Ankle looked like a good place for an ale. George pushed his way in through the door. And no crowds; just the way he liked it.
"Hey there, sister," he said, relaxing against the bar's counter.
The barmaid looked around for who he was talking to. "I'm afraid you've walked into the wrong tavern. I'm not your sister. And you're not get anything without payin." Her mouth hung open after she spat out her words, and the vein in her neck stuck out aggressively.
