'Til Death Do Us Part - Part 31

Sarah looked up at the neon sign. The red letters glowed in the night, illuminating the words ‘The Greasy Hog.’ “Sounds like a charming place,” she said.

The fiddling of ‘The Devil Went Down to Georgia’ seeped through the establishment’s walls.

“At least the music ain’t too bad,” Roger said.

“Not my first choice,” she said. “But it’s not a bad song.”

“We can go somewhere else,” Roger said. His words were lost as Sarah opened the door to the bar. A wave of music hit them as they walked through the building’s entrance.

Sarah looked around the area as the door swung shut behind her. The bar was relatively empty, having only a dozen or so other patrons. A tall, beanpole thin man stood on the stage yelling, out of tune and out of sync with the lyrics into a microphone which he grasped with his right hand. His face was scrunched up as though the words he was singing had caused an aneurysm. He staggered around the stage whipping the cord which he held in the other hand like a lasso. The patrons of the bar cheered and goaded him on as he tripped around the stage.

The clatter of billiard balls drew her attention to the back of the room. She caught sight of two full sized pool tables, one of which was occupied by two men. One of the men tapped his cowboy boots on the ground as he waited for the other man to play. As he waited, he picked up a handful of nachos and stuffed them into his mouth. He then proceeded to wash the mass down with a gulp from his stein. After his companion made his move, he wiped his hands off on flannel up shirt and jeans before grabbing the cue.

“You want something to drink?” Roger asked.

Sarah looked at him and nodded. The duo walked up to the bar. After a few moments a young woman approached them and took their orders. Her golden locks bounced as she popped the caps off of the two bottles and passed them to Sarah and Roger. “You two here for the karaoke contest? Winner gets a t-shirt,” she said, and smiled at the pair.

“Oh I don’t know...” Roger said.

“Where do we sign up?” Sarah interrupted.

“Right up by the stage,” she said. “There’s a binder with all the songs up there.”

Sarah weaved through the mess of tables and chairs up to the stage. She grabbed the binder and flipped though it. After a few minutes she scribbled something down on the sign up sheet. “Looks like we’re up next!” she said and smiled at Roger.

“We?” Roger asked.

Sarah ignored him and took a seat next to the stage. After a minute or two the man on the stage finished stumbling out an awkward jig and shouted “Yee haw!” into the microphone and threw his hat across the bar. The patrons laughed and clapped for him. One man patted him on the back as he walked off the stage.

Sarah got up. “Ready?” she asked.

Roger groaned as though he were a child being asked to clean his room. “Do we have to?”

“Please Roger? It’ll be fun!”

Roger stood up and followed her onto the stage, shuffling his feet as he walked.

Sarah looked at the monitor and selected a song off the display using the remote. After a few moments, the instrumentals to ‘Sweet Home Alabama’ began to fill the bar.

Immediately as the song began to play, Roger’s demeanor shifted. His face brightened as the first few chords vibrated the speakers. The patrons clapped and sang along for the chorus which only encouraged him further. At one point in the song, she broke out in laughter as Roger played the air guitar for the crowd.

When the song was wrapping up, the bar doors swung open and three figures entered the establishment. Sarah stopped her singing and her jaw slacked as her eyes focused on Rob, who was followed by Shawn and Aura.