Chapter 2 – Tall Tales at Moe’s

 

Chapter 2 – Tall Tales at Moe’s

The neon sign of Moe’s Tavern flickered like Barney’s eyelids after a six-pack. Inside, the stale smell of Duff beer and bad decisions wrapped around Sgt. Salty like an old coat.

“Wheyyyyyy lads!” Salty bellowed as he barged in, dragging Danny Boy and The Govna behind him.
Moe peeked over the counter, muttering, “Aw geez, more loudmouths. As if Homer wasn’t enough.”

Danny Boy ordered three pints of Duff, but by the time Moe poured them, he’d already told two drunken war stories that somehow involved a goat, a helicopter, and Marge’s blue hair.
“True story, swear on me burger!” he hiccupped.

The Govna leaned back, swirling his pint like he was some kind of Springfield philosopher.
“Boys,” he slurred, “did I ever tell ya about the time I beat Disco Stu in a dance-off? Wheyyyyy, the man never recovered.”

Salty jumped onto the sticky barstool like it was a stage.
“Tall tales? Ha! I once sold sand to the Arabs and ice to the Eskimos—”
“Hey, that’s my line!” Moe snapped, wiping down a glass that never got clean.

At that exact moment, Barney belched so loud the jukebox restarted itself with Itchy & Scratchy: The Musical. The lads roared with laughter, clinking pints.
Splattttttttttttt! spilled beer everywhere.

Lenny and Carl popped their heads up from the corner.
“Hey Salty, tell us another!” Carl shouted.
So Salty did — about the time he tried to rob the Kwik-E-Mart but ended up buying twenty Squishees instead.

By midnight, the whole bar was chanting together:
“Yummmiezzzz! Destroyizzz! Wheyyyyyy!”

Moe just sighed.
“This joint used to be respectable… nah, who am I kidding?”