Pauley's Tavern and Pool Hall

Daydreams to cope with sometimes take on lives of their own....

al·le·go·ryˈ (aləˌgôrē) noun

plural noun: allegories

   "A story, poem, or picture that can be interpreted to reveal a hidden meaning, typically a moral or political one."

   “An Allegory is a form of extended metaphor in which objects, persons and actions in a narrative, are equated with meanings that lie outside the narrative itself.

The underlining meaning has moral, social, religious or political significance of abstract ideas as charity, greed and envy.

Thus an allegory is a story with two meanings, a literal meaning and a symbolic meaning.”

   Yes, I looked it the f*ck up and with that you know what is needed to be known to understand what the Pauley’s Tavern and Pool Hall book series is about.

  Oh I should add that the censor is pretty much off most of the time. PG this story is not. PG13 neither. R yes; but beyond that?

Shhh....

Now some background info on the place ”The R*tards" go to play.

(Pauley’s term of endearment for his patrons that don’t act their age, especially when sh*tfaced.

Think about what "r*tarded" means, then how it's used in every day language to be an insulting description.

Just like calling a child a "b*stard", some words should be questioned as too f*cked up to use like they're whatever.

"Wh***" is another one with an edge, and yes these words among others will be questioned, but you as readers decide the fate of these words as they apply to your personal vocabularies.)

   Pauley’s Tavern and Pool Hall is a sort of 'speak-easy' name for The Iron Horseshoe Tavern established back in 1974 by Paul "Pauley" Kelly.

It’s called this to keep what are now known as 'hipster' invaders away, and its whereabouts only known by word of mouth.

Is it elitist?

Perhaps.

Or it is about self preservation and preventing as long as possible, their haven from being taken over by those that do not honor tradition, nor would uphold Pauley's Code of Conduct.

  New folks are welcome, as long as they can respect the School House Rules and don't complain when Lucy gets unplugged; otherwise foos are getting their a*ses expelled!

   Over the years The Tavern has become a home away from home club house for old timers and mostly blue collar roughneck man children with its latest motley generation currently in their 30’s, give or take.

Some married with children or divorced with visitation on the weekends.

They have bills to pay, money to save, jobs to not f*ck up in order to do both.

Occasionally these a*sholes may brawl and Pauley’s shotgun Grace taken out to dance, with Jukebox Lucy playing the soundtrack; but overall the place is mellow on a weekday afternoon.

   The crowd that made The Tavern its watering hole is loyal and there is a sense of kinship between the boozer drunks.

Stories this tavern has no lack of thanks to the antics of the patrons, which also include my own.

   I wrote myself in as a character using my real name because all this stemmed from a daydream I had, to keep me company while I went for long walks with detours, in my new town of residence;

Boyle Heights, California.

   Though home for me will always be my beloved

East Los Angeles, Califas

   One day I thought of a man that didn’t exist to help me move on and let go of the past, by focusing on the existing hope of the present and lessons learned.

  Perhaps it was my way to prepare myself mentally for the future because I don't have much to my name other than my imagination.

 “Mikey, Jacob, Bobby, Joe, Paul, Davey, Alex, Dennis and Lou”

   Names of made up men that are a close knit pack of pals I will never forget.

They all represent an aspect of the men I have known, both in the good and bad; but they are human, even if fictional.

They are part of the details to the symposium full of zanies.

   This story experiment at times is a sort of open love letter to men that have shown their integrity even as they also try to get things right.

These men are strong but also weak.

Happy but still stressed.

Hopeful but discouraged at times with what they feel is out of their control.

It’s a mix we all endure, but with them; I feel how unequal men still are when it comes to expressing their feelings on it all.

How do I know?

I'm a daughter of one that expressed them regardless.

   The women in this saga also are shown going through their own life roller coasters and attaining their triumphs for they too are strong and capable.

It’s just with them, the way their stories are told is different.

How different?

The goal is to show we could use a little bit of understanding from the fellas.

With their stories, I hope to tell men that not all of us are their enemies or psychos, that more often than not, there was an issue with communicating and emotions go on edge.

We can be worthy of trusting and also respecting.

I hope to tell, we can have our bad days too, even if our hairstyles look nice; and we don't always know what the f*ck we're doing either.

We do know we could be wrong also.

No really.

Women are capable of knowing they can be wrong. Getting us to admit it, now that's something else.

*cough*

I want to show the men I was able to reach through to, women can be their friends as well, and shoulder part of the old burdens that say a man must bare these alone.

Even as women, we can relate and be more than arm candy hood ornaments, "Honey can you bring me a beer?".

  But this is to reassure the males that are willing to read, they'll have a place in what is usually considered female terrain.

  Yes this is a quirky soap opera Spanglish novela, for a subculture of those that bought in to what a friend called:

"The Rockabilly Retirement Plan for Punks, Skins and Goths".

And what was surprising, the guys did get in to it as much as the gals. I mean, how can I write an open love letter to men, if I don't include what matters to and interests them?

  From the serious like Erectile Dysfunction or even the car not starting and being already late for work.

To the "Are you f*cking serious!?!" and the latter said in two manners.

One with enthusiastic glee like they scored, and the other in BOHICA despair.

Espeakin' of which....

This is a bedtime story dedicated most of all to Our Troops and 'Docs' green side or civilian; for I do know the power of a reality break, if not reading oneself asleep.

And this because I want to "Play It Forward" and yes I do mean play.

  The man I would spend countless silent moments, wondering about his happiness and safety; he was the life lesson I needed to get me out of a bad place; even as I felt helpless knowing which bad place he was headed back to.

This Army Coptor Doctor ridding one of Anansi's spiderweb threads, tied to the foot of a Dragonfly Dustoff back in Stan; reminded me why being able to control your focus, makes dealing with difficult things, easier to cope with.

The chaos will still be there, it's how you allow it to affect you, that makes a very important difference.

You either learn how to hold on and fight or you don't. That "don't" had been my concern for him.

There was a reason his story began to stand out to me.

"Yet for me that also came from the desert, compassion I also knew how to show...."

  Eyes like his and lack of smile, you don't forget.

He had the face of many that aren't returning all that well; but his face comforted me when it would look silly; but haunted when it was a stoic with unintended, resigned grace.

  So this allegory that aims to be a cult classic, does have its soul, as that odd daydream of mine, found a life of its own.

And it became a Shoretale Fable of Therapy in Motion and thinking up the answers that become the solutions.

It's all just rhyming for the reasons, that carry us through the seasons of change.

Suggestion: Look up Grandiose, Ostentatious, Pretentious, Narcissistic, Delusional, Self Absorbed Motor Mouth, but most of all Ironic Catharsis. Thank you.

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Copyright ©2017 Rev. Mother L. G. Flores. All Rights Reserved.

Heaven Please Bless All That is "Pauley's...." and May No Harm Come To This Therapy In Motion, Adult After School Special, What Happens Cuando Nos Ponemos Las Pilas, Mark In Miles Stones, for This Dreamer and Music Maker Shake, Rattle n' Roll!

Amen.

"Siempre Fiel En Lagrimas Y Sangre"

Doc Mac Go Bunny Foo Foo

Press Play To Listen To The Faraway Boys "Cowboy Moon" For The Soundtrack

  It can be said in many ways. The truth and it's interpretations. It all means something and yet, also jack sh*t.

  It's funnie that way and the hilarious for when the clowns go back to being shamans. It's perspective when the thought police begin to come out dressed in uniforms full of symbolism. Learning to read all the details that compose a scenario. It is easy to figure out that old rules get replaced with questions and instructions of possibilities.

  It's when it's probable that one should get concerned with. It will make sense when it has to, but for now I'll tell you a story about what happened when one reached out to another.

  There are many aspects of what can be called love from a fondness that was genuine, even when there was so much fear surrounding it. The years pass from that fateful day when the grace window was closing. He had no clue what would occur and after he replied, things were set in to motion yet again.

  This online handle and messages in bottles cast in to the ocean of the internet, in silent moments where it's only the outside not getting through. The fingertips tap the greetings and conversations that would set the stage to something unwritten but destined.

  If not destined, then it was a face in a crowded world that stood out in a way not many not related by blood, would. Then it was tragic circumstance for the sad girl left crying from getting attached to a hope that was near sighted as she was. He looked to be himself. Unintended as usual, one Grasshopper chirped the radio sound space and fingertips tapped the S.O.S of needing a Cavalry to save them both.

  This Grasshopper would fly from a spiderweb thread tied to the foot of a Dragonfly Dustoff. All around it was ugly and a storm took many forms with it's furry and sickening sense of helplessness.

  His words echo and hers record.

  His memory was not purged, there was no chance considering from where the fondness formed. Funnie is that it wasn't always that way.

  What he wanted and what the Snow White Hermit tending to The Lighthouse knew, imaginary conversations help fill the empty and turn up the sound of the chirps.

  The meta mind bender was when the Grasshopper didn't grab on to the spiderweb thread tied to the foot of the Dragonfly hard enough, to get away from the battle ground and beat the time that clicks on as a ticking heart winds down. The Grasshopper fell and then tucked and rolled in to what was meant to be forgotten and nothing more.

  The legend now for a sea story born from an older shoretale, they are fables for the parables of“The Scout's Guide For Looking God Straight In The Eye.” A rabbit hole opened up to catch the Grasshopper that tucked and rolled in to a little, shinny, silver metal pinball intercepted away from the pinball machine he very well knows.

  The rabbit hole spiraled down and further deep in to a place of cross roads of which way will the pinball roll?

“He needs to wake up first.”

“Doctor, his head is bleeding.”

“Call The Candlestick Maker to seal in the cracks. Call The Baker to bake him a cast. Keep The Butcher away today and go wake up the semper fi mac!”

“Yo mac! Can you hear me? Coz' you're gonna die if you don't.”

*eyes blinking-disoriented-body hurts-sledge hammer to the head-wet color red*

“The mac doesn't know if he can hear me Doc.”

“I'm a Doc.”

“Hey the mac speakeths!”

“Doc, I'm Doc and that guy over there is Doc, and the one next to him and the one behind you are all Docs too, do you understand so far Goose?”

“I'm not going to be f*cking Goose!”

“Then you need to Bunny Foo Foo, and answer what the f*ck is up, Doc.”

“I don't know. I don't even know where I am and why I'm here. I need to get back!”

“Doc Mac, there's no going back if you never left. You being here is somewhere that isn't there. This is a moment for your clarity. The fairytales and nursery rhymes will unroll you back in to the little boy you once where before you realized the truth can be mean and unfair.”

Press Play To Listen To The Builders And The Butchers "Devil Town" For The Soundtrack

“So I can get disappointed all over again?”

“Is that what's up Doc Mac?”

“I don't know but my head hurts.”

“Your thoughts want to escape. Pretty soon they'll do it in tears, if not by throwing up.”

“I need a drink.”

“Water fine or you want something with fire in it?”

“What can knock me out.”

“Is waking up after you sleep part of the deal of getting your drink?”

“I still haven't negotiated that.”

“Doc, the Baker and Candlestick Maker are here. The Butcher hasn't crossed over yet.”

“Doc Mac, you got two options. Trust the gibberish to buy you time, or deal with the Butcher on his way.”

“Who's the Butcher?”

“You don't want to know. So healing or chancing it, decide now!”

“But I won't ever heal completely. No one I know has ever!”

“You can heal more than you realize Doc. The Butcher is coming. You got to roll the tunnels until you get to safety, or you wait for him to reach you and cut you down.”

“I don't know what I want.”

“Docs, this mac is gonna Goose, we need to seal in the cracks and cast him quick!”

“What are you going to do?”

“Cast a mold of you after we fill in the cracks because it will get worse and you will crumble. You crumble with no safety net, the Butcher will find you and the rest is best you don't know.”

  It's surreal as the fourth left behind.

  The Grasshopper Pinball Doc Mac doesn't know anymore which way to go or what to do. He's coherent enough he knows he's having a conversation with these strange medics that are trying to save him, but other his head hurting and bleeding, he feels no pull to move. He knows he needs to return to what he was doing before he fell and rolled down a peculiar rabbit hole that just appeared.

  Is he in Wonderland or perhaps Oz? How about Narnia or Never Never Land?

  The pinball machine was bypassed. That's the only real sensation apart from his head pain, that he's aware of. No more banging against and getting beaten up with barely any time to catch his breath or getting much sleep without hearing screaming of wounded.

“Hey Doc Mac, you don't have to die this way.”

“I'm dying?”

“The bullet you fired in to your head is causing that. You shot it in make believe but now you really are bleeding through the looking glass. You need rest and then a ride to your next destination.”

“Which is?”

“Returning back to Zero before the truth was mean and you seen the unfair that made you question all you have been told kept you safe from harm.”

“I can go back to before it all fell apart for me?”

“Only if you can complete the cycle for closure.”

“Caduce Troop Central just called asking for a status report on the mac.”

“He's not sure if he wants to keep living. Send for a Pegasus Legacy and maybe they'll have better luck.”

“Yo Doc Mac, the Pony Express is on it's way. You'll have their wings covering you.”

“Who are they?”

“Volunteers that could relate. Now still your thoughts; the rabbit hole didn't open up for nothing.”

“Why did it open up?”

“Because there was still good in you left to try to save from self harm. But if it's not the Butcher coming for you, you may stare at twilight and enter such self denial, it's going to take effort to get you to see color again.”

“Being able to see color is at risk?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Do you have to ask?"

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Copyright ©2018 By Rev. Mother L.G. Flores. All Rights Reserved.

Heaven Please Bless All That is "Pauley's...." and May No Harm Come To This Therapy In Motion, Adult After School Special, What Happens Cuando Nos Ponemos Las Pilas, Mark In Miles Stones, for This Dreamer and Music Maker Shake, Rattle n' Roll!

Amen.

"Siempre Fiel En Sangre y Lagrimas"