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The Four Bikers Of The Apocalypse
“The thing is, why does the world have to end at all, that’s what I’m sayin’” said the drunken figure in the black hoodie.
“ ‘S got a point there, right enough,” said an intoxicated voice from a collapsed figure under the table. The man under the table was wearing a Kevlar vest.
“ S’not our choice, is it? Y’know? The big man says ‘ f*** it, I give up’ it’s not our place to argue,” said a thin guy with his head shaved, like he was getting cancer treatment.
The barman listened with half an ear to the strange conversation going on in the back of his bar. He had heard some crazy conversations in his time, but this had to be up high in the top hundred.
“ I like it here though,” said the African man. His ribs jutted out of his chest.
It was a couple of hours past closing time, but the barman got the feeling it wasn’t worth the hassle to try and turn these four bikers out.
“Another round of … what was we were drinking again?” said the guy with the hoodie smugly.
“For the last time, its called a Death Skull, and stop gloating over it” said the thin man sulkily.
The barman poured the drinks and handed them round.
“D’you think we should go find God, you know what he gets like if we let him down here too long,” said the African guy.
“Nah, he knows where to find us when he wants us,” said the man in the black hoodie.
“Weren’t we s’posed ta do sumat the night,” said an indistinct voice from under the table.
“Tha’s what we’ve bin talkin’ ‘bout the past half hour, fir Christ’s sake, don’t ya pay any attention?” said the skinny guy.
The guy under the table muttered something inaudible to the barman.
“What was that?” said the skinny guy. The guy under the table muttered a bit louder. ”Well maybe ya’d be able to hear us if ya hadn’t drunk so much ya couldn’t sit in ya chair no more,” said the skinny guy angrily.
There was a silence for a few minutes then the guy in the black hoodie spoke up.
“Don’t see why we gotta ride motor bikes now insteada horses,” he said slightly sulkily.
“Fir Christ’s sake, da we have ta go through this every time, we gotta move with the times, same with the way we look,” said the skinny guy, exasperated.
“So, we doin’ this or not already?” said the starving African man
“Not with War in the state he’s in,” said the guy in the black hoodie, gesturing towards the drunken figure under the table, now apparently singing a song about badgers.
The African guy sighed and said, “Well, guess we’ll have to tell God that we’ll have to do the Apocalypse another night.”
“Ah, he’s probably talked himself out of it by now. Did that last time, remember. He got stoned and ended up staring at a poodle sayin’ “We can’t kill it, no, no, no, can’t kill it,” over and over again,” said the guy in the black hoodie.
“C’mon, grab this idiot let’s get home” said the skinny guy, kicking the guy under the table in the ribs.
The barman polished a glass and started to whistle
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Three men walk into a bar, one of them is a bit stupid, and the whole scene unfolds with a tedious envitability
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