Weirder Than Weird Read Free Page B

slab of gnarled and unfinished wood sitting upon notched logs. Behind this he saw shelves filled with sand colored bottles, all corked and of myriad shapes and sizes. On one side of the counter rested a wooden ladder that rose to a darkened loft and on the other, a door to an unseen room.
        Despite the odd surroundings he was certainly thankful to be out of the cold. He turned to close the door and as he turned again, a figure now stood before him. This sudden appearance startled him and he fell back against the door with a gasp.
        “Oh my! Beggin’ your pardon stranger, I didn’t mean to frighten you so!”
        Before him stood a plump old fellow whose slack face looked to be fully drained of color. “I’m the barkeep here, Old Tom they call me,” he wiped his hand across a stained apron and held it out in common gesture. The man instinctively took hold but a stingy cold instantly penetrated his flesh and coursed quickly to the bone.
        The old man gave him a wink. “Now you just shake off that chill over there by the fire and old Tom’ll get you some grub right away… they’ll be plenty of time for story tellin!” He then turned and disappeared behind the counter door.
        Still a bit shaken, the man rubbed his hands and walked over to the fire. Within a few minutes the old man returned, carrying a large wooden platter filled with small loves of fresh bread, slabs of cheese and two large steins of beer. He sat the platter down upon the table and gestured for the man to have a seat.
        “Now then, stranger, why is such a man as yourself out on a night like this?” the old man asked, eyeing him from top to bottom. “We certainly don’t get many borders these days.”
        “Well, it just so happens that I got lost somehow,” the man replied. “You see, I’ve been surveying these parts for about a week now and I must have gotten confused, I mean, it’s the damnedest thing, one minute I’m standing on a hill just taking notes when, for some inexplicable reason, I look up and everything was … mmm… different!”
        “Different you say?”
        “Why yes, I know that it sounds crazy but all my surroundings were changed somehow. Come to think of it, I remember seeing a very odd flash of light out the corner of my eye, then as I say, everything was different. For the life of me I can’t fathom how it all happened but I found myself walking on a dirt road for what seemed hours looking for my car.” He paused. “Now that I think of it, I did come across a man on horseback but when I yelled out to him he wouldn’t even look in my direction, which I thought very peculiar.”
        There was a knowing glint in the eye of the old man but he remained silent, his face only gesturing in a feign mask of sympathy. Realizing how parched he had become, the man fully drained his drink in one long breath and wiped his sleeve across his face.
        “Thank God I finally saw your light, barkeep!”
        “Yes, the good Lord be praised alright, but don’t you worry none lad, you’re in good hands now; this is the best Inn this side of Barstone and after a good night’s rest I’m sure that…ah… that thing of yours will turn up.”
        “My car you mean?”
        “Yes, yes that’s it!”
        The moment was interrupted by the sound of a hatchet striking down hard at the opposite end of the room and a momentary flutter of white filled the air then became motionless. Startled, the stranger jumped in his seat. On one end of the counter stood an elderly man of diminutive stature and as thin as a stalk of grain. He was holding a hatchet in one hand and a freshly decapitated chicken in the other. The blood oozed over the counter and dripped steadily to the floor below.
        The old man gave a look of exasperation then turned to the stranger. “Beggin’ your pardon, Sir, ol’ Pete over there has never been one for manners, what say I get us a few more