“Could I use your phone?” you say.

“No money and no phone?  Where the hell DID you come from?” asks COACH inquisitively.

Thinking back to the CURSED LINK and the AGRICULTURAL FIELD, you struggle to think of an answer. “I guess I’m trying to figure that out too,” you manage.

COACH stares at you for five seconds before a grin creeps onto her face. 

“Honey, I’m sorry, but my phone is long dead. And I forgot the charger at home. Thankfully, we’ve got other ways to stay charged around here.” She reaches below the bar, pulls out a can of FRESCA, takes the tiniest sip, winks, and, still grinning, returns the FRESCA to its place beneath the bar. 

“And we haven’t had a landline here since Spyhauski quit paying the bill in ’18. There’s an old payphone down the street, but I honestly have no idea if it works. I bet there’s someone else in here who’d let you use their phone.”

Trying your best to be nonchalant, you  turn to face  the BAR CROWD. A group of four people decked out in leather play DARTS in the back corner... the motorcyclists? Five elderly, bored looking men in trucker hats sit around a table, watching a muted television play an episode of FAMILY FEUD with closed captioning turned on. Those must be the pickup truck owners. In the middle of the floor, two tables have been pushed together to accommodate a group of nine young-ish looking people surrounded by backpacks and guitar cases. A few of them are engrossed in a game of cribbage. One of them stands up to fiddle with the DIGITAL JUKEBOX. The cyclists?

You realize that you can smell the bowl of SNACK MIX just a foot away from you on the bar. Its aroma is toasty, zesty, alluring.

What do you do?

Talk to the DART PLAYERS
Talk to the FAMILY FEUD watchers
Talk to the CYCLISTS
Eat some SNACK MIX
Make conversation with COACH