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.

Back To The Top Where It Starts

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"

Warning

War Induced PTSD Flash Back Potential After Third Video; If You Empathize, Then You Should Know Why It's Important To Be There For Our Troops And War Veterans That Never Got Out In Their Heads. For Full Effect Turn On A Fan Directed At Your Face, On High For Third Video. Overlapping Videos May Not Work On All Phones Or Tablets.

Prelude To Letting Go:

“I feel like a pinball…."

Part 1

Press Play To Watch What A Pinball Looks Like Inside A Pinball Machine To Begin To Understand Doc Spooner's Analogy As What I Learned To Make Peace With

"Get there in time and get home safe."

~Cass~

Press Play To Listen To The Ramones "I Wanna Be Sedated" For The Soundtrack

Wednesday January 9, 2013 (Three years later.)

7:07pm

The Iron Horseshoe Tavern

“Gina, want another Rolling Rock?”

   I’m thinking two is enough, but f*ck it, I’m already back there.

“Yea, sure.”   

   Mikey leaves me at the pinball machine while he goes get me my horsey beer. I check my coin purse for quarters since the coin machine was out; I have a few games’ worth. {Guess it’s enough to deal with you and get it over with.}

    I pull two out and insert them in the slot. The machine lights up and I pull the knob pin back. The pinball shoots out; I begin to press the side buttons. I’m listening to the dings, pings, as well as the rings. I keep it going for 20 seconds and then lose. I take out two more quarters, stick them in the slot and go again. Knob pin pulled back, then released.

  This shiny, silver, metal pinball, nothing to be intimidated by; shoots out fast again. I manage a minute this time. Mikey returns with my Rolling Rock.

“You’re getting better.” he tells me.

  I don’t respond, too focused on the game. I keep the pinball moving then miss, game over.

“Here, drink your beer and watch the expert.”

“Cool.” Is all I could say {What If he knew?}

    Mikey hands me both beers and demonstrates once more, he is better at knocking that ball around in that f*cking machine. He’s good and I finish my Rolling Rock before he’s done showing off, he sees this.

“Are you okay baby?”

   I couldn’t fake it but tried anyway.

“Yea, why you ask?”

 “You don’t look like you’re having fun.”

 “I had a hard day. Hey is it cool if I get another Rolling Rock?”

“Of course, Josie will put it on my tab, get me another one too.”

   I leave Mikey’s side and that Ramones pinball machine to ask Josie for the two beers. She also notices I’m rather quiet, not being my usual, warm self.

“You okay Gina?”

“Yea, just one of those days.”

“Well don’t let it bring you down, another Rolling Rock?”

“Please, and one for Mikey.”

“Coming right up.”

   I check my coin purse, no more quarters.

“Josie can I buy some quarters from you?”

“Machine out?”

“Yes.”

“How much do you need?”

“Is four bucks too much?”

“I could do two.”

“That works.”

    I hand her two dollars and now have 8 quarters and the two bottles. I turn back and see Mikey isn’t at the pinball machine or at the pool table with Paul and Joe. I figured he went to hit the head. I knock on the men’s room door using my foot.

“Aye Mikey, you in there?” I ask through the door.

“I’ll be out in a sec!” he answers.

  I wait for him. Not too long after he steps out and I hand him both beers.

“I got to splash water on my face.”

“Alright baby; I’ll meet you at the pool table.”

   I go to the ladies’ room, my head hurts. I p*ss first, and then wash my hands, rinsing them for a while. {Don’t stay back there} I turn off the hot water and turn on the cold. I cup my hands and bend over closer to the sink to splash my face. I think about how even after all these years, I couldn’t forget like I said I… nevermind. I take a deep breath, dry my face and hands then leave.

   Mikey is playing pool with Joe and Paul. I’m not done yet with the pinball machine. “Hey.” I say as I walk up to stand next to Mikey. He puts his arm around me, then moves his hand down to my waist and he holds his Rolling Rock with his other hand.

“You’re shooting next.” Paul tells me.

“Not feeling it but thank you. Mikey I’m gonna keep playing with The Ramones.”

Press Play To Listen To The Ramones "Commando" For The Soundtrack

“Okay Bullets, I’ll be right here.” I walk away.

“Is she feeling alright?” Joe asks.

“I don’t know she’s been like this since we got here; I’m starting to worry.”

   The three look over at me walking back to the pinball machine.

“How many beers she drink?”

  Mikey tells Paul I’m on my fourth one.

“Maybe she should switch to those Shirley Temples she likes.”

“I’ll give her a bit, and then check on her.”

  The three return to their game but Mikey keeps looking over at me. I kept the pinball going a minute again before I lose. It’s whatever, it gave me a chance to chug my beer.

   My head now has a light throb at the temples, but I’m not done playing. I put in another two quarters, follow the routine and there goes the shiny, silver, metal pinball again. I’ve gotten better at this game but still…

  The ball is smacked around, bouncing against, going different directions; getting beaten up…. it’s under a relentless attack. This brings back more memories of him. I push the buttons and the levers hit the poor, little, shiny, silver, metal pinball and they won’t stop. It has to keep moving {Why?}

   It’s going up, it’s going down. It slows down and rolls, and then the goddamned lever knocks it back up again! The pinball rams in to the bells and lights are flashing! I only notice the red ones. The pinball machine is loud and I fail to keep it going strong. The pinball rolls away.

  I chug more of my Rolling Rock. I get lost for a few, staring at the horse head on it. I pull out another two quarters from my coin purse. I insert in the slot, pull back the knob pin and yet again, that poor, little, shiny, silver, metal pinball shoots up and I’m rough with the side buttons.

{The pinball looks to be trapped in the middle of chaos….}

  I don’t hit it in time with the levers; it rolls down from the miss.

   I open my coin purse again; I take out my last two quarters that are stuck together. I stick my thumb nail between them and then pull them apart. My heart sinks even further. I see the Flying Swallow from Oklahoma and one not so worn down surprisingly, from 1974, the tavern’s year. What were the f*cking chances?

{Two coins for two eyes to pay the toll fare to cross a river.}

  I stick both quarters in to the slot; I pull back the knob pin and again the pinball rockets out. I was never going for points; I just wanted to see what a pinball looks like under the glass of a pinball machine. I hit it. I hit it some more. I feel like I’m abusing him too. My heart pounds hard in my chest {Don’t go away please? I’m sorry.}

   I hit the pinball again. I hear the ringing and the other f*cking noises telling me I’m scoring points, I’m sobbing quietly. Once more, hit it once more! Hit him again! Keep it going; make it beat this!

{It has a f*cking glass ceiling; you can break it and escape!}

Press Play First And Continue To Next Ramones Video To Overlap The Sound Of The Blades Provided By A Bell Huey UH-1 Dust Off; If You Have Access To A Fan To Blow On Your Face, Please Turn One On High Now; Best Heard Through Earphones For Full Effect

Press Play Second To Listen To The Ramones "Pet Sematary" For The Soundtrack

  I miss and the pinball rolls away. I don’t want to drink anymore beer. I put the Rolling Rock bottle on the floor away from my hands. Why? Because I want to use it to break the glass ceiling of that pinball machine and take its pinball far away to anywhere but where it was, where ever he wants to go.

  I remember my back-up stash of quarters I save for emergency bus fare or for a payphone. I go to the zippered pocket in my messenger bag to see what I have. I have enough for a few more games. I take out two quarters, stick them in the slot like the others before, pull back the knob pin, but I don’t press the side buttons. The pinball peacefully returns to where it always goes to rest. I stare at the game board under the glass. Softly I tell it “f*ck you.” I don’t want to play this pinball machine ever again….

“Gina, it’s just a game.”

   Paul’s voice brings me to. I don’t wipe my tears.

“I know.”

“You want to go outside with me to get some air?”

“Yea, that’s fine.”

   I walk off on auto pilot and open the heavy wooden door to the hallway leading out back to the smoking deck. I walk through.

   Mikey sees Paul following me out. He puts down his cue stick to go outside as well, but Joe stops him.

“Maybe Paul should handle this.”

   He’s really worried now.

“I think she had a mood swing Joe.”

“Has she been having a lot of those?”

“Not around me. I don’t know what triggered it. She was fine on the way over here.”

“You think the beer did it?”

“I seen her drink more and she was cool.”

“Take her home man.”

“I can’t take her home, she was locked in there all day.”

“Wait a few minutes, then go see how she’s doing.”

   Mikey is reluctant but knows Paul is a good listener.

   I don’t know what direction to go towards other than the wall and sit on the ground with my back up against it {At least we have this area to ourselves.} Paul watched carefully what I did and then sits on the ground himself next to me. He asks:

“What made you cry?”

  I say, I say nothing and look away. I didn’t know how to put in to words what I hold in for convenience sake.

“Gina, please don’t make me play guessing games.”

  I’m silent for what seems like an eternity, but it was less. I finally speak.

“I remembered something I read once.”

 “What did you read?”

“I feel like a pinball in a pinball machine.”

 “Is that why you were playing?”

“Yea… It was time I faced It.”

“Why?”

“Because his words I let haunt me ever since and what I should have said, but didn’t.”

“Those words were said to you?”

“Yes, in an email. It was from a friend that was….” I sigh.

“What did you want to say to them?”

“Ask a simple ‘why?’ or ask ‘how about now?’ rather than think the worst, assuming.”

   Paul thinks of what to ask next.

“What did you say instead?”

“I don’t remember my exact words that were a lot, but I jumped the gun... I wasn’t on the right med combo, bad sh*t was going down all around me too, I was exhausted and under a lot of stress and pressure…. I rambled again.”

“Did he tell you why he felt like that?”

“No. He avoided it and went about like it was never said. I considered that perhaps he said it because I demanded so much attention from him and that I made him feel like that or maybe he summed up what I was basically going on about… It’s been a mind f*ck Paul.”

“Why a mind f*ck?”

“Because if it wasn’t me that was the problem, then it was something else and he may have turned to me for help. I didn’t Paul! For all the f*cking venting I did with him, he comes to me and I didn’t! But it wasn’t from not wanting to….”

  I’m trying not to shut myself up but it feels like I should.

“He told me before about some drama going on with him but he didn’t elaborate. I was really worried about him, and it wasn’t over stupid sh*t!”

  I break down again. I try to refocus, looking down at my feet. This position I am so used to because when you’re on the ground, you at least can’t keep falling and well with me it’s a given. 

“What happened next?”

“I had to burn a bridge to protect him though I gave another reason. I tried to explain after, but it kept coming out wrong; and then he told me not to contact him.”

“So you’re not friends anymore?”

“No. Actually Paul…. I wonder if we ever were."

I stared in to oblivion from a thousand miles away. I seen the face of a man and wondered if he suffered the same fate and sadly to that, I wondered if he would always relate.

Who fixes us toys of intention, then sends us on our way?

The man from above that fell down below and rolled in to what was meant to be forgotten, and nothing more.

Yet for me that also came from the desert, compassion I also knew how to show; but he thought it best I not know, though it meant I would not let go.

That perhaps is my irony, for I have yet to learn how.

~L.G. Flores September 2012~

Pause And Reflect, Then Press Play To Watch The Infamous Helicopter Scene From "Apocalypse Now" To See Vietnam War Era Air Cav In Action. You Can Turn The Fan Off Now....

Adios Spooner.

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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"