Monkey Buisness

“The monkeys told me I’d find you here…” I panned, not sure how to begin.

“Well, this is one of the few places I’m not usually bothered by apes,” she shot back.

She looked up from her glass and stared at me with her dark green eyes. Her hair was falling in her face now, but she didn’t seem to mind. It gave her an air of mystery, like she had something to hide.

“I was wondering if I could buy you a drink?” I stammered. I’ve never been comfortable meeting people in bars, even after a few drinks. My brother-in-law was in the mood for cruising, and decided he’d give me some pointers. So here I was thrust into an awkward conversation with a girl I’ve never seen before, and not exactly sure how to avoid making a fool of myself, or if it was too late.

“That depends,” she replied, “on what you’re drinking yourself.”

“Manhattan,” I said proudly, presenting my glass. “I’m not much of a beer person, and this is one of the few drinks an average bartender won’t mess up.”

“You just might have a chance…”

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