#au: pulling pints

[lordalbion]

au: pulling pints || ❧

@americanmockingbird

The Black Sheep; a traditional old pub situated on a picturesque cobbled street somewhere in the outskirts Cambridge. Owned by a local man in his mid-thirties by the name of Arthur Kirkland, married with one step-son. 

At the ripe age of twenty-one, fresh out of college, Arthur had inherited a good sum of cash. He decided to buy the old pub outright, refurbishing and renaming it after what had once been a rather cruel epithet often used against him. Not only did the pub specialize in a range of beers and spirits, but it also boasted great taste on whisky and gin, and provided frequent entertainment ranging from sports to quizzes, karaoke and live music. The pub swiftly rose in popularity under Arthur’s ownership, with people coming from all over the county to experience the atmosphere. 

So the years rolled on, and astounded by the success of his venture, Arthur had begun to consider the the idea of expansion. This was around the time that Alfred – a young, fresh-faced American lad – appeared in search of employment. He had also needed somewhere to live, so the owner allowed him to lodge in the apartment above the pub in exchange for working later hours. That way, Arthur might spend more time with his family, whilst furthering his plans to multiply the business.

For a while, all went well. Alfred was a quick learner; he had a friendly disposition that proved popular with the locals. He was extremely loyal, too, even as Arthur continued to up his hours in favour of laying off other employees, in order to scrape up a higher budget for the development of sights elsewhere. However, constant arguments at home found Arthur haunting The Black Sheep more and more frequently, drinking… and drinking and drinking, while refusing to acknowledge that, over the years, he had developed an addiction to the substance he had made his living on.

“Pour me another one, will you?” His request was all too casual. It was 11am, the calm before a storm of lunch-time patrons, local students and tourists began to shuffle through the doors. Music lightly played in the background as the owner sat on the patron’s side of the bar, reading a newspaper whilst Alfred polished glasses. Arthur had a meeting with his accountant in an hour, but his eyes were red and glassy --  he was half-cut. 

[lordalbion]