Back of a bar, sometime before closing. The CD changer was skipping over ultimately forgettable tunes, and the ceiling fans stuttered. A bar tender cleaned glasses he had cleaned half a dozen times already. Sitting in the back, nursing an hours old drink on the brink of death. Hang in there. We all have to die, but hang in there as long as you can.
He started to speak. No one listening.
"Y'know, evrythin's still basicly OK, y'no? It is, really, see if it ain't. I mean, sure, the universe jus' collapsed into a tool shed, but it's, like, no big deal, cus its a small world anyway. `Sides, we should all try'n get closer, anyway, right?
"Ain'tchoo listenin?
"I mean, shit man, its not like machines have taken over or nuthin. They're not that good yet, y'no? I mean, shit, if engineers're so fuckin brilliant, why do we need technicians?"
Yopu the barmaid came by and asked, "You finished with that?"
He clutched the glass. "Don'tchoo try'n take'im b'fore his time! Don'tchoo try it!"
"Sorry." She backed off.
"I mean, hell, he ain't dead yet." Takes a sip. The drink is on life support now. A strong breeze could evaporate the last of the alcohol. Our narrator doesn't want to hear this.
"It's OK. Evrythin's OK, y'no, cus the frogs 'n toads 'n salamanders are in charge. Amphibian government, man, its great fer the rainy season in Peru, right? Right. Not that we wanna discriminalate 'gainst the left. They's just misGuidoed, man, it's not like they're tryna drive us inta the ground're nuthin, cept in Ontario. 'Sides, evryone needs two sides. Otherwise we'd all fall over, y'no?
"I mean, rock'n roll'll never die, cus a sax players the president. It's cool.
"Basicly OK."
He takes another sip, notices the drink has bit the dust. Throws the glass into the mirror behind the bar.
"Nothin's OK anymore!"
