A Novel, a Flash, and a Poem walk into a bar. Considering itself of a higher order, the Poem decides where to sit. When the Poem orders a drink, both the Novel and the Flash insist on being served first. Scotch for the Novel; bourbon for the Flash, both straight-up. And the Poem? The Poem displays its tendency for precise images by repeating the order of a dirty martini: Tanqueray gin, three pitted olives, shaken four times with three ice cubes and served in a frosted martini glass.
Finally, the Novel, the Flash and the Poem toast this fine occasion. Then the Poem, again the “higher order” issue, rephrases the earlier question: “Did anyone invite the Story? Though it’s not like we need a fourth for bridge or two folie à deux.” “The story’s too short,” the Novel says. “Too long,” the Flash says. The Poem is astonished at such mundane reasons and says “length — so that’s all that’s keeping the Story from our little party?” The Novel and the Micro admit it’s true.
They call for a new round. The Poem repeats the directions for his martini but the Novel and the Flash insist on being served first. Delighted with another martini, the Poem realizes that four at the table would have meant an even larger bar tab so he tables his sympathy for the missing Story. Several drinks later, it is time to leave. Here the Poem goes off to use the facilities. Besides, as we know but do not say, Poems are rarely able to pay the tab. The Novel picks it up; the Micro leaves the tip.
Image: Day 51: Dirty Martini by Tom Small, licensed under CC 2.0.
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