So, with the dawning of a new year came the launching of a new endeavor, featuring the man of many talents. Every Wednesday, those who have something to rant and rave about are invited to come into Oliver’s bar, order your favorite drink and vent to your heart’s content. Oliver promises to lend an ear and offer up a heaping portion of sound advice. But you know what they say about being forewarned and forearmed. Take his advice to heart or take it with a grain of salt. But whatever the case, take it in the spirit with which it was given and roll with it. Who could be brave enough to be Oliver’s first vic…I mean customer? You guessed it, yours truly. Gulp. Excuse me while I belly up to the bar. Wish me luck Here goes nothing.
“Hey, boss, what’s up? I dare say you look a little more stressed out than usual. What’s got you so tangled up in blue?”
“You can begin with ordering a drink. Shall I brew you a cup of that spicy Chai tea you can never get enough of?”
“You got it, love. Name your poison and I’ll serve it right up with a wink and a smile.”
“I don’t know,”
Oliver raises an eyebrow. “I think you need a JB. I promise to make it weaker than one I’d make for myself. You’ll love it, just you wait and see.”
“Well, all right,” Sharon
“You got it, love,” Oliver whistles as he pours gin, vodka, dry vermouth and two dashes Angotura bitters into an ice filled shaker. Once he’s shaken it, he pours into a goblet an adds a thin slice of lemon peel. With his legendary wink and a smile, he presents it to his boss. “There we go, love, now tell Dear Oliver what’s on your mind.”
“Like?” Oliver props his muscular arms on the bar. “Do tell.”
“Take for instance my new cell phone, it’s good for nothing.”
“How so?”
“You betcha, boss. Whatever you say. But why not get a voice activated phone. Seems to me, that would solve everything.”
“Because,” Sharon
Shrugging one of his sinewy shoulders, Oliver obliges. As an after thought, he shoves a dish of pretzel mix in front of Sharon
“Heck no, I’m just getting wound up. The phone was just the tip of the iceberg. Then I lost my Internet connection, right when my interview went live. And the helpful tech who turned out to be anything but helpful, asked me how many lights were on. I explained that I’m blind and unable to see the lights. After telling me he was sorry to hear that, he asked me again how many lights were on! But here’s the best part. When I demanded to speak to his manager, he actually had the audacity to mumble something about me being high maintenance. Tell me, does that beat all or what! Do be a dear and get me a bag of chips, the sour cream and cheddar, you know the ones I like with the ruffles.”
With a smirk, Oliver yanks a bag of chips from behind the bar and slides them across the counter toward his boss.
“Then I was treated to twenty two minutes, count them, of elevator music for my listening pleasure. I swear, Oliver, they just don’t play any good tunes these days.”
Raising an eyebrow when he sees that She’s already downed her second James Bond martini, Oliver flips the switch on the jukebox. Live and Let Die by Paul McCartney vibrates off the walls.
“Oh, and while I’m on a rant,”
Humming, Oliver hits another button on the jukebox. He smiles a beguiling smile when Carly Simon’s sultry voice undulates through the bar with The Spy Who Loved Me.
Oliver pumps his biceps and grins. “Not on your life, boss.”
“Whatever,” Sharon
I hope you enjoyed my first edition of Dear Oliver. If you have something to rant and rave about, or perhaps one of your characters does, email me to schedule an appointment. Please put Dear Oliver in the subject line and send to
Charade of Hearts
Oliver’s story!
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And don’t forget to check out his Valentines Contest for a chance to win an Oliver goodie bag, including a box of chocolates.
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