William Anderson walked down the deserted streets of the city. His head was splitting and he needed a drink. He wandered the streets looking for signs of life, a bar or even a bum on the sidewalk willing to share; he just needed to wet this throat with that slow steady burn of lasting joy and forgetfulness.
He turned the corner seeing a light in the distance. As he got closer he was able to read the writing on the big picture window: "Rick's Cantina."
He lifted his head to the sky, "Thank you God!" he screamed and jogged the rest of the way.
William's eyes squinted in protest to the light as he entered the cantina. Along the west wall was a gorgeous mahogany bar shined to perfection. On the east were four matching tables and chairs; a couple huddled together in whispers occupied the table in the corner.
"You guys aren't closing?" William asked, begging that the answer be no.
"Nah, we never close," said a white haired bartender with bushy eyebrows wiping the already immaculate bar.
"Great," William said, "I'll have a whiskey straight-up and the cheaper the better."
"Sorry," said the bartender, "we're all out of whiskey."
"Alright," said William, "how about some Scotch?"
"Sorry, no Scotch either."
"Ok," said William getting frustrated; all he needed was one drink to take the edge off, "Surprise me, vodka, beer, a freaking fuzzy navel, anything."
The bartender placed his towel neatly on the edge of the sink hidden beneath the bar and walked to William. He leaned in close scrunching his forehead causing his bushy eyebrows meet, "You'll find no alcohol here."
"What!" exclaimed William, "What kind of bar is this?"
"This is more like a waiting room; someone will come talk to you shortly. I have to go now, it's my turn."
The bartender walked from behind the bar and to a door on the back wall.
"Where are you going? What do you mean someone will come talk to me?" William yelled following the bartender.
The bartender entered the room closing the door quickly behind him. William reached for the door knob only to be block by the woman who had been at the table.
"It's not your turn," she said in a comforting voice.
"You're all psychos, calling yourself a cantina and then not serving any alcohol! I'm leaving! All I wanted was a drink!" William said as he walked to the front door. He reached for the front door knob only to be blocked by the man.
"You're supposed to wait," said the man in a threatening tone.
Before William could make another attempt at the front door he heard the back door open. As he turned around he saw a short little bald man in a grey three piece suit staring back at him.
"William Anderson I presume?" said the bald little man.
"How did you know my name?"
"Oh, I know everything about you, William. I know how you left your young wife and baby daughter, because you thought they'd be better off without your drunken rages. I know how you stole money from your brother when you needed a pint of whiskey; always thinking it would be the last time. I know how you sang "Big Girls Don't Cry" at your Mother's funeral in a drunken stupor, because it was her favorite song. I know it all."
William stared at him.
"Do you know where you are William?" asked the bald man.
"No, I don't care. I just want to forget. I just want a drink," cried William.
"Come to the window, I think it will make things clearer."
William got up and walked to the window. As he looked outside he could see a figure lying on the sidewalk, wearing a red t-shirt, jeans, and sneakers. William looked down at his own clothing and realized he was wearing a red t-shirt, jeans and sneakers.
"I'm dead aren't I?" he asked.
"Yep, one drink too many, your heart couldn't take it."
"Am I in Hell?"
"No, you're in-between. You've done bad things, thinking you had good reasons. Now is the time for reflection, you are the new bartender of Rick's Cantina. Others will come and wait. When the bar is empty you will know it's your turn; then you only have to wait for the next person to show up; that person will be the new bartender. Good luck William, I hope to see you soon."

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