Homage to Squares

Amara Johnson

After the AA meeting, Rob and I went for a drink. It had been ten years since we last saw each other and I was going back to London tomorrow. Suffice to say that the drinks were necessary, and we had them in abundance. Well, at lease I did.
Rob had the standard beer, while I nursed a glass of clean scotch. We both sat at the bar, backs to the makeshift karaoke stand, where a woman grunted out the lyrics to some Lady Gaga--more like Haha--song.
Rob was annoyed, kept pinching the bridge of his nose and glancing back at the woman. He turned to me and said:
"Ey, you wanna leave? It's not late yet. We could get dessert somewhere else."
I looked at my scotch and said:
"Yeah, let's get the hell out of here." 
"No, Rob. You haven't finished your Scottish eggs yet and isn't that the whole reason we came to this pub and not Bravo's?"
"No, let's stay a bit longer. Maybe she'll choke on her own throat and stop singing."