This bar is a piece of shit…

Even though they banned smoking in here five years ago, it still smells like a decade of Benson & Hedges butts soaking in a bucket of lye.

Last time I was in here, it was a Saturday. There were three football moms at the end of the bar, waiting for their “stupid” sons to get done with Pop Warner practice directly across the street at the middle school. The middle school across the street from the smokier, shittiest bar in this part of the good side of town.

They looked horrible. Over processed hair. Over processed nails. Bleached teeth (likely other parts, too.) Whatever horseshit Cosmo and the Kardashians were shilling that month.

Maybe they were in their 40s. Maybe older. It didn’t matter. They’d likely be dead by 70. Probably sooner. Hopefully, for the rest of us.

But they knew how to trade — better and quicker than any schmo on Wall Street. It started with insults about their “limp dick fucktard” husbands. Their “bitch” neighbors. Their “asshole” kids sweating it out across the street from the bar.

But what really caught my attention was their tradecraft in pills.

After the cutting remarks about their first-borns and over-providing husbands reached a lull, the impromptu pharmaceutical marketplace opened up shop.

“My doc put me on Lexipro, but it’s not as good as the Prozac.”

“Really? I love that shit — especially when you take it with a big G&T. You don’t want it?”

“Not really. I just want my ‘Zacs — and my Xanax. But nobody is writing Prozac scripts anymore — especially my dickhead doctor.”

“Shit, girl. I got plenty of both. The Prozac might be a little old but I don’t use it anymore. I’m low on Lexipro though, since my back got better. That shit though? Mmmm…ick, girl. Halfway bearable.”

“God, I miss coke.”

“Yeah, we all do…”

And then the bottles came out…

[Midlothian, Virginia]