Wednesday, April 27, 2005
Dodgeball, The Horror Movie
Last night I was supposed to meet a couple of friends at Whiskey Ward, a dark little bar on Essex Street. Someone was celebrating something, I think. I didn't know who or what but I'm always relieved to have an occasion to drink on a Tuesday night.
While on my way from the west to the east Village, I got a call from the bar.
"This is really strange. There's no-one here. A bartender and a couple of old drunks. But otherwise it's empty. No guest of honor. No party. No one," my friend said.
It took me a while to get down there. I passed a bar on the way, and stopped in to refuel. By the time I reached the Ward, it really was empty. Not even the friends I was meeting were there.
Naturally, I assumed that everyone was dead. Slowly being killed by the zombies posing as barflies. Okay, I didn't really think this was happening but it would make a great film. People could get a dodgeball message, stop in to say hello, and find their dodgeball buddy is gone. They'd send out a dodgeball ping of their own, and then vanish.
Dodgeball: The Horror. Someone get to work on this.
(P.S.: the Cellar is showing horror movies every Monday night. Show up, drink, be afraid, be very afraid.)
Update: I just re-read this and realized I the post can be summarized as: "I went to a bar all alone, didn't talk to anyone, had a drink and went home." Pretty proud I can craft a credible blog entry based on a night like that.
While on my way from the west to the east Village, I got a call from the bar.
"This is really strange. There's no-one here. A bartender and a couple of old drunks. But otherwise it's empty. No guest of honor. No party. No one," my friend said.
It took me a while to get down there. I passed a bar on the way, and stopped in to refuel. By the time I reached the Ward, it really was empty. Not even the friends I was meeting were there.
Naturally, I assumed that everyone was dead. Slowly being killed by the zombies posing as barflies. Okay, I didn't really think this was happening but it would make a great film. People could get a dodgeball message, stop in to say hello, and find their dodgeball buddy is gone. They'd send out a dodgeball ping of their own, and then vanish.
Dodgeball: The Horror. Someone get to work on this.
(P.S.: the Cellar is showing horror movies every Monday night. Show up, drink, be afraid, be very afraid.)
Update: I just re-read this and realized I the post can be summarized as: "I went to a bar all alone, didn't talk to anyone, had a drink and went home." Pretty proud I can craft a credible blog entry based on a night like that.
