“You old enough to drink?”

The bartender was half lit himself. The place was an all day bar with drunks slouched over the bar  examining drinks with melting ice cubes, a couple hung onto one another, some old guy on the stool at the far end was asleep. He snored in time with the music.

“Good music.  You must be old enough, no young hippie punk appreciates this shit. Whatta ya havin'?”

“Vodka and something.  What time is it?”

“About ten in the morning.”

“Okay, vodka and orange juice.” I remembered something Uncle Louie said.  “Vodka is for commies.”

“Excuse me?”

“Nothing. What else goes with orange juice?”

“Dark rum. Dark rum and orange juice...

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