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"

"It's in your wallet."

Press Play To Listen To Johnny Bond & His Red River Valley Boys "Mean Mama Boogie"

Saturday
October 20, 2012
The Light House/My Apartment
Boyle Heights, Califas
11:43pm

(Phone Ringing--Default)

  Oh sh*t was that loud and that noise keeps on insisting! Now where the f*ck is it coming from? And I’m awake. Why am I awake? Oh yeah, someone decided to call me at… what time is it?

(phone ringing….)

  I hear you!!! I know you want me to answer! Seriously telemaphone, WHERE ARE YOU!?!

(phone ringing.…)

  I find the phone between my bed and my kitchen table. I knock my head trying to reach for it as I’m already tense because that noise is demanding I answer. I appease the little b*gger after I seen the caller ID. It’s Mikey.

“Hello?”

“Hey. Were you sleeping?”

“Kinda. I hit my head trying to answer the phone.”

“I’m sorry. You okay?”

“I have a thick skull, I’ll be fine. Are you o.k.?

  There is a pause between question and answer. It only takes two seconds to say o.k. Not kidding. Two seconds, that’s it! It’s two syllables. “o” + “k”. The seconds pass, I heard him clear his throat and sniff. Has he been drinking?

I’m getting this familiar feeling.

“You’re not okay are you?”

“No. I mean…. no.”

“You need the doctor to be in?”

“I’m sorry. I’m bugging you.”

“No. What you have me now is concerned. What built up to you sounding like you choked up a few moments ago?”

  He’s got his green light to go for it. To open up and vent with a fellow head case, that won’t judge him for being inconveniently honest. I know it’s hard for guys to open up. I know this guy trusts me, which is why he’s calling this late.

  Something is up because he would be over at The Tavern, with the guys, where they would normally deal with any bad day he had. This doesn’t feel like it was just a bad day.

“Still there?”

“Yeah, juz gaderring my doughts.”

“Michael you drink to get numb or liquid courage?’

“Both.”

“Where are you right now?”

“At hom.”

“You go to Pauley’s?”

“I wuz dere for a bit.”

“How did you get home?”

“I drobe.”

“Before or after you got drunk?”

“Before.”

“What have you been drinking?”

“Bourbon.”

“Straight?”

  He pauses. That pretty much answers my question.

“You’re not going to drive anytime soon right?”

“Nah, feel too mush like chit to dribe.”

“So which straw broke your back?”

“I… it was… *exhale* …F*cking Rachel is being a b*tch!”

“Aye, she can be an a*shole and jerk, but please don’t call the mother of your daughter a b*tch.”

“Whatever, I’m sorry I called to bug.”

“You’re not bugging, but could you see why I would defend her, can’t you?”

“I know; that’s what your kids’ dads call you to make you look bad, and them less like d*cks. But Rachel is really being a b*tch.”

“What she do?”

“Emily called her stepdad her other daddy.”

  I can picture his face right now, much like another I seen, feeling overwhelmed with thoughts that ran too deep for a simple man.

“You’re upset with her mom for not teaching her to only call you daddy.”

“Yeah! I mean, none of my girlfriens did she call them mommy.”

“You said your post break-up relationships didn’t get serious enough to even introduce the concept to her, her stepmom would be another mommy to her. Maybe that’s something to focus on with roles reversed.”

“I woulden let aneone else call her mommy.”

“Exactly. But listen to the twist on what you just said.”

“What twist?”

“Your relationships didn’t lead up to anyone worth asking to become her stepmom. If they did, your response may be different.”

  He’s quiet. I’m not sure if he’s taking it in or passed out.

“I guess so.”

Press Play To Listen To Ernest Tubb "Mean Mama Blues" For The Soundtrack

“Michael, y’know what, this is for Anthony to hear. Does it feel unfair that Rachel gets to be happy with someone that isn’t you, and you haven’t met someone that has brought you to that crossroad?”

  Gingerly, “Yea.”

“Do you think if you did reach that crossroad, you wouldn’t mind as much sharing the male parent role?”

“Maybe.”

“So why didn’t you reach that cross road before?”

“I was datin the wrong womin, I suppos.”

“Why were they wrong?”

“They were loneliness hook-ups.”

“I don’t know how you could have lasted so long not feeling that connection that goes beyond just being lonely for company and affection.”

  He’s thinking about it.

“Gina, it hurt a lot and she doesn’t give a f*ck. What the f*ck did I do to her to take away me being my daughter’s only daddy?”

“I’m not around Rachel to get a feel for her, but I agree that it’s jacked up to not respect that your title of daddy, is yours alone considering you do love your child, and have been dedicated to her.

  You don’t act like a baby daddy that should be replaced. This reminds me a bit about another single dad I met, that had to accept he had to share male parent figure to his son; but wasn’t seeing his son’s mom can’t give him attitude for wanting to date again, after she was done with him.”

“What happened?”

“Okies, so this dude really took to heart his wife leaving him for the guy she had an emotional affair with, before she pulled the plug and he had to move out.”

“I know how that feels.”

“I thought you would relate. Anyway, this single dad, cool dude but gun shy when it came to starting over. We meet and hang out, turns out I’m the first chick he’s asked out since their breakup six months previous.”

“Wait, you dated this guy?”

“We went out on one date and hung out the second time. Point, she had no qualms about her leaving him and bringing in the new guy; and accepting the insane amount he gives her for child support that straight up, he was paying more to cover expenses for her rent and her ride. This guy is a sweetie, but she still had the audacity to try to keep him in check when it came to him meeting new women.”

“If he was such a sweetie, why weren’t you two together?”

“After finding out I was the first woman he took a chance to ask out on a date date, I felt and told him this. I felt I’d be more his friend if I don’t become his rebound relationship. He needed friends not girlfriends, so the following gal he asked out, they connected.”

“Oh. Were you upset?”

“Not at all, he was a cool dude, but I didn’t form any illusions because I don’t want to be the rebound romance with anyone. It was very clear that he’s been in a sort of sheltered, repressed state that included depression. I didn’t think it was the best move to make his first date with the gal after me, his special lady friend, but he has to figure this stuff out for himself.”

“Do you still talk to this dude?”

“We’ve talked but infrequently. So his son’s mom thinking she can still treat him in a controlling way, I picked up on big time when she was on his car's speaker phone.

  He said when she seen my Farcebook profile pic, that her tune changed. Though I feel his character is above this, after listening to how she talked at him, and takes advantage of his dedication to their child, I was ready to help him to get her to chill, by being his vindication new lady friend. He repeated what she said and what she said I don’t think he could make up.”

“What she say?”

Press Play To Listen To Jimmie Rogers "Looking For A New Mama" For The Soundtrack

“She pointed out my looks and style. He’s billy, she’s not, but I was. Though there was no question on him being there for his child, she got the reality check that he’s not torn up about their breakup anymore. That took away from her, the security that she was his ultimate ideal.

  And then she tries to set him up on a blind date with another gal that liked rockabilly too. As much as his gentleman ways felt bad for saying it, he had to say it. The woman was in her 50’s and according to him, looked like she weighed 300 lbs.”

“Whoa!”

“She was being a jerk towards him and her friend. She wanted him to date someone she felt was less attractive than her, so she wouldn’t feel threatened.”

“I would say so.”

“Did Rachel pull that with you?”

“No, she encourage me to det. It was lik so I would be disdacted from knowin she replaced me.”

“Sounds like it. But be that her peace of mind intention or not, it felt that way to you and because you loved her, it hurt.”

“Yea.”

“You do realize that tonight was your one time to drink that hurt off your mind?”

“I guess…. You’re riet, I can’d keep gettin drunk when I’m upsed.”

“You’d end up in rehab if you had to drink away every worry, anger, and pain.”

“If you didn’t know he was still rebounding, you would have kept dating?”

“To be honest, I’m still dealing with being emotionally unavailable.”

“You’re still wonderin the 'if things were differend'?”

“No, but right now I’m remembering how children came in to play. He was on the prowl to forget, I was a train wreck that had to derail away from him and…. *sigh*”

“You cared a lot about both of them.”

“Yes. I sometimes try to picture their faces smiling and happy. Going back to you.”

“It just gets to me that she’s found someon and I…”

  He couldn’t finish his sentence. I’m picturing Michael's face looking sad, feeling the tender spots of his heart that still have bruises on it.

“Why the f*ck Gina?”

“Why you haven’t met the right one to reach the cross roads with?”

“Yeah.”

“You may need to finish up reviewing karmic lessons, before you formulate an actual plan when it comes to dating. It’s all in strategy.”

“Strategy?”

“Yes.”

“How?”

“The way you approach the situation. You ‘member the rules of engagement.”

“I can’t even remembur where I pud my wallad, I’m not going to remembur those Godd*mn rules!”

“Did you have it when you got out of your truck?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh, then retrace your steps and think likelihoods when you sober up."

"I'll look for it leider. I'll just get depressed openin it up."

"How come?'

"The picture of Emily and me her f*cking mother took it. It's my favorite picture of us, but she had to have been the one to snap the camera."

"What if you carried something else in your wallet to balance out the bitter sweet of your ex taking that picture?"

"Would be nice to have a picture of my gurl wid a flower in her hair. Feel like taking a pictur?"

"But I'm not your girl."

"I know, I was just kiddin; but I would like a pictur of you; you don't have to wear a flower."

"You really want a picture of me?"

"Yeah, you're not mean to me like Rachel is."

"I'm glad you think so, but all my pictures are digital. You can go through my gallery and copy the one you like to your phone."

"I'd like a real photograph with your hand writin on the back dedicatin it to me."

"Will you throw it away after you find yourself a girl with a flower in her hair?"

"I'm still trying to get you to be the girl with a flower in her hair, but yur emotionally unavailabal."

"I'm still figuring myself out Michael. I don't want to make promises to anyone while I'm in my own head space. It would be disrespectful towards the both of us. But, I am opening up to you like you're opening up to me."

"I'll buy you a hair flower for Christmas then."

(To be continued....)

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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"