21 Tales

21 Tales by Dave Zeltserman Read Free Book Online

Book: 21 Tales by Dave Zeltserman Read Free Book Online
Authors: Dave Zeltserman
Tags: Mystery & Crime
was vodka. So it has always been. And, as I am sure, so will it always be. As much as I have enjoyed my nights at Donlan’s I have to face facts that the place was now lost to me.
    Since it no longer matters, I give up all pretenses and show them who I really am in all my glory. As my body expands, as my clothes rip from me, some of the bar patrons swoon, and I’m sure some probably expired right then and there. I let loose a laugh, but it’s hollow. I know I’m going to miss the place.
    As I leave for the last time, I try to cheer myself up, remembering reading in People Magazine about a trendy new bar opening up recently in Los Angeles. A place that’s a magnet for Hollywood’s rich and famous. While I know it will be no Donlan’s I take solace that in my own way I’ll make it my home.
    I turn, give Donlan’s one last nod, and disappear into the night.
     

Dave Stevens, I Presume?
     
     
    I wrote two endings to this story; the one that Alfred Hitchcock ended up using which made this more a hardboiled story with an interesting metaphysical twist, and my original ending which brought the story more into horror. Both endings are included here.
     
     
    The bar seemed pricey for Wichita, but they had the brand of gin I liked and they allowed smoking, and after a long day on the road I figured I deserved to indulge myself a little. I was on my third martini when I noticed her, and she was certainly worth noticing – brunette, mid-twenties, slender, very nice figure which the miniskirt she was wearing didn’t do much to hide.
    I don’t think I was so much staring at her as gazing in her direction, but the look she gave me turned me straight around. If I wasn’t a little high from the martinis I would’ve put two and two together faster when I caught her out of the corner of my eye making a beeline towards me. Before I knew it she was next to me, tossing her drink in my face. I made the mistake of letting go of my glass to reach for a napkin and my seven dollar Bombay Blue Sapphire martini was left dripping down my neck also.
    “You dirty rotten bastard,” she forced out in a breathless tone, her small hands clenched into fists. “I hope you rot in hell.”
    She then turned on her heels. I sat silently and watched as a hundred and five pounds of pure fury stormed out of the bar. Then I mopped up my face as best I could, silently cursed Dave Stevens, and signaled to the bartender for another drink.
    “That was quite a show,” the bartender said as he raised an eyebrow. He was a big man, mostly bald, with way too much flesh on his face – almost like a couple of extra layers of stucco had been slapped on. He tried giving me a smile, but there wasn’t much life to it.
    “I never saw her before,” I told him.
    “I would’ve bet otherwise.”
    I didn’t bother responding. What would’ve been the point? Somewhat reluctantly, he poured me a fresh martini. I could tell he’d rather have me leave his establishment than sit there at his bar, but hell, it wasn’t my fault that gal threw her drink in my face, and then my own. I just had the bad fortune of looking exactly like Dave Stevens.
    If this had been the first time something like that had happened to me it probably would’ve left me stunned, but it wasn’t the first time. Far from it. So I sat glumly drinking my freshly made martini and over the din of voices and ice clinking in glasses and other bar noises I could make out the faint rumbling sound of the universe laughing over the cosmic joke that it had on me.
    And it was a good one.
    Given how poorly I always did with women, it surprised me how often something like this did happen to me. But this Stevens guy has something I don’t; charisma, extreme confidence, animal magnetism – I don’t know exactly what, but he has no trouble breaking hearts and inspiring violent passion in the girls he dumps. In contrast, the few girlfriends I’ve broken up with over the years couldn’t have cared less.
    I

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