It was a dark and stormy night. The howling wind bullied its way through the rainswept branches of a willow tree outside. The traveler stumbled up and rested her hand on the trunk of that tree, vainly trying to shield herself from the pounding rain. Only partially shielded from the wind she panted, stooped over, the storm buffeting against her plastic rain poncho. After a short time she braved the wind again and tried to make her way toward the only shelter she could see. The bar rested on a precipice of a crevasse, the only man-made structure for a hundred miles (the bar, not the crevasse). It had been built by a pioneer who went by the name of Jim. Legend has it he was heading west when a powerful thirst grabbed him.
It was a beautiful sunny afternoon when he set to work, and he build that bar in less then a fortnight. Once the place was raised, he had it stocked with all manner of liquor and spirits. He sat on a stool at the end of the bar until an unemployed barman stumbled in, half-drunk. The barman, not realizing where he was, shambled behind the bar and started polishing glasses.
"I'll take a whiskey." Jim stated, dry as an Arizona winter.
"Uh... sure thing pardner." The barman replied (his name was Galvin, but everyone just called him "Hey, barman!"). He poured the whiskey and slid it across the bar to Jim. Whiskey spilled everywhere. Jim took a hard gulp of the fiery liquid and stood up.
"Thanks" he said. No one ever heard from Jim again.
One hundred and 7 years later, on a Tuesday, a mysterious traveler in a plastic rain poncho bumbled up to the door of that same bar.
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