It’s quiet here at the moment. We get a few sleepy crew members from beaten up transport ships, who want coffee and a seat in the corner. All they bring to Buber are parsnipheads and a lack of conversation.
Sorry, that’s a little bitter. Everyone’s welcome! I said I was going to give you a tour of the bar anyway.
The original wooden structure of the building still remains, but we put in a concrete floor a few years ago. Along one wall is a long copper bar top, made from brewing stills my grandmother kept in the basement. This starts near the front door, and runs all the way to the toilets on the other side in a U shape. Behind the bar I keep everything pleasingly ramshackle, but well monitored. I keep a good stock of glasses. Any breakages can result in months before replacement.
We’ve got three booths at the back put in a few years before I took over from grandmother. The red leather is ripped and scuffed, and I’ve given up trying to get the stains out. Our three windows are circular, and give a view of the woods and fields outside. They can be locked and secured in fifteen minutes if we ever got too many parsnipheads knocking on the door. In fact all these features are rock solid despite their age. I used to play around them as a child, and there’s no way I am getting rid of them.
In my time I’ve added five big barrels screwed into the centre of the room, each with four brass stools around them in a diamond. They are seasoned oak, and have contained beer served to our customers. I ordered a selection from our suppliers. Some travelled millions of miles to get here. All are seasoned and stained, and provide all the table space you need.
Over the years I’ve added plenty of decorations. Coins and notes from across the galaxies shine above the whisky bottles. Sketches and photos of swamps, forests and mountains of places thousands of light years away form a framed landscape. We’ve had some cool trades when guests are short of money. Teeth the size of my thigh bone. Rocks that glow when you turn the lights off. A triangular piece of scorched metal, from a Butter Mice spaceship. They gave it to me as a present after off drinking the bar dry of whisky.
At night I switch on fairy lights, and bar signs advertising from across the galaxy. We’ve packed in sixty on a busy night, with only seventeen standing. We’ve had live bands perform, and even a few performances. Our beer depends on what barrels we have. Our spirits ebb and flow in amounts. But we’ve always got beer snacks.
And coffee. Not many people come here for the coffee.