Tales From the Front
                  Introduction to the Mayfly Bar and Grill
                        West Third Avenue in Spokane
                        Copyright 1995 by Dave Laird

Esther Treacle sighed to herself, putting the last her family's clothing
into the Tide-Dee-Dry drier in the laundromat. Things would be a lot simpler
if she only had a washer and drier to handle the constant demand of her old
man and three boisterous boys who usually operated at light speed. Lacking
the amenities was nothing new to her, however. Her husband, Luke, barely
made a living wage as an auto mechanic, and even worse, you would never
guess his profession by looking at the junk heaps they both drove. 

Still, through good times and bad, she and her best friend, Mattie had
continued to make the trips together to the laundromat, often gaining
whatever leisure time she would have perhaps for weeks at a time, in the
process. Unlike herself, Mattie seemingly was forever between men, never
seeming hang on to one or another boyfriend longer than necessary to extract
whatever it was she wanted from them, be it money, sex or even, once, a car.

Yet despite the brazen quality about Mattie, Esther cherished the times they
sat together in the laundromat, waiting for the spin cycle to end, then to
load the massive piles of sodden clothing into the bulk drier, with the
interminable collection of quarters gripped firmly her hands. Then, once the
clothes were all in the drier, tumbling madcap this way and that, they could
talk without interruption. They shared secrets, promises, things that they
would share with no one else, or so she thought. 

Most of all, Mattie fascinated her with the tales she wove, of the man
currently in her life, or those who she had already dumped in favor of
another squire. But when Mattie began talking about the night life she had
seen in the smoke-filled bar down the street from where they both lived, the
painted caricatures of men and the codes by which they lived, she had to
pinch herself as a reminder that she was just a bystander. 

Mattie turned, and her earrings jangled faintly against one another, as,
together, they heaved the last of the clothes into the drier. Mattie smiled
reticently at her image in the cracked and faded mirror the wall, and
grasping Esther's arm in her strong, stubby fingers, steered her toward the
bench next to pop machine. 

"Now let me tell you about what happened last night at the Tavern...."

The fluorescent lights in the laundromat appeared to twinkle, then faded
away completely. The air became smokey, reeking slightly of beer, body odor
and raw fear, 

Mattie began to reach down past into the endless darkness retrieve yet
another memory of the tavern, the endless and seemingly guileless tavern,
where she met the men who came her way....