"At The River Ridge Bar"

© 1996
J. Mitch Hopper

Life in the slow lane. This hilarious tale concerns the patrons of the River Ridge Bar and their version of Saturday night at the races! Here is just a taste!
A note: This work of fiction was awarded "Best of Show" in the 1996 'On My Own Time' competition sponsored by the Springfield Area Arts Council.

Once upon a time, in the state of Illinois, county of Calhoun, there was a tavern called the River Ridge Bar. Located near the county line, the River Ridge Bar was the last outpost, the only place of refuge for the area residents. If not for River Ridge, the locals would have to go into the Hardin metroplex or travel to the bar-of-many-names north of Eldred to drink, be cool and tell lies. It was a cozy little two story building; the kind of place that could have been a home or a grocery store. The River Ridge Bar had existed there for many years, untouched by the passage of time until the mid 1970's. The world was shrinking and everyone had a working car. You had to specialize or lose your clientele. Owner, operator and bartender, Cleetus Miller, did just that.
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