Out of the Ashes

    It was a bitter-sweet time. The Halfmast was gone. It literally went out in a blaze of glory. All that alcohol made a spectacular blaze that could be seen as far away as Bangs. We had just finished cleaning up the place for the new owners, Miss Kitty and Dacey May when all of a sudden there was fire everywhere. We all ran for the exits although West Sandusky Fred and I had to stop and drag Mac Murphy out. He was standing in front of his Confederate flag with a seltzer bottle yelling, "Ain't no #$&*%@ Yankee fire gonna get mah flag!!!"
     Luckily Fred had grabbed his pool que. All it took was a glancing blow and we grabbed the stunned Mac by his hands and feet and carried him out. Fred's que will never be the same, though, because he had to use it a couple more times whenever Mac came to.
     They next day we were all sitting around my kitch ... uh I mean the World Headquarters of the Grumpy Bachelor International Cartel and World-Wide Mega-Monopoly, Limited feeling pretty glum about the whole tragedy. The Halfmast Tavern had been a home away from home for most of us. Some of us spent so much time there that it WAS home. It was, in fact, where West Sandusky Fred learned to sleep on a pool table.
     Cujo Mike denied any involvement in the fire and we believed him. He claimed that it was the work of an amateur since we all had time to get out. He speculated that it might have been the result of spontaneous combustion in the big pile of toast that Miss Penny had prepared for the occasion.
     "That stuff was like charcoal," he said, referring to the toast. "Between that and the fermented hummus, it's lucky half the town didn't get blown away!"
     Yes we were lucky, but the fact remained that the Halfmast was toast, so to speak. However, it presented me with a small problem. Don't get me wrong, these are my best friends, but World Headquarters not withstanding, I wasn't about to have this crew hanging out in my kitchen every night! Just then Miss Kitty walked in and surveyed the glum scene.
     "Hey! Whatsa matta witch youse guy? Ya look like somebody died that owed ya money!" I explained to her what the Halfmast meant to all of us making sure that everybody heard me say that I didn't think my kitchen would make a good substitute for the Halfmast. "Ah lissen! Don't worry about dat! It was insured! We're gonna rebuild. Don't look so glum, babe. Ya ain't gonna hafta clean yer kitchen."
     "You mean you're going to rebuild the Halfmast?" I said, my heart pounding with joy and relief, not to mention just the sight of Miss Kitty.
     "Not just the Halfmast, Hon. It's gonna be part of something bigger!"
     "Uh, like what?"
     "I'm gonna build a domed stadium. I got half the money for it from the insurance. All I need is a sponsor to kick in the other half. Whaddya got that we can hock, hon?" And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how the Grumpy Bowl was born.

NEXT WEEK: Cleaning the attic for yard sale items, holding a bake sale, setting up a lemonade stand and selling magazine subscriptions and fire insurance.

George Breithaupt is a photographer, copy editor and weekly columnist for this newspaper. You know the one we mean, but our attorney advises us not to mention its name and the Grumpy Bachelor in the same paragraph.