Art and the philosophy of life

Neon…Happy Hour

Neon, Neon Font, Advertisement

“Here,” she said, handing the person behind the desk a fifty dollar bill.  “I’m not sure what you charge.”

“Depends on what you’re ordering,” he said, smiling at her.  “Do you want a booth, or would you rather sit at the bar?”

“I’d just want an hour of happy, please.”

“An hour of happy?”

“I want you to make me happy for an hour.  That’s what the sign said.”

“Happy Hour is the name of the bar.  And Happy Hour means that you drink for an hour, so that you’re happy.  Or maybe it means that your just happy that you can drink for an hour.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.  The sign doesn’t say anything about drinking.  What if people don’t get happy from drinking?  You kind of  promised an hour of happy and that’s what I want.”

“What would make you happy?” he asked, hoping she wouldn’t say what he was thinking.

“Do you have cake?”

“No,” he said, relieved.  “This is a bar, not a bakery.”

“Well, what do you have?”

“Whiskey sours?”

“That’s not what I want,” she sighed.  “Do you have a bunny?”

“Why would I have a bunny?  This is a BAR, not a zoo.”

“Wow.,” she said.  “I just asked, and who would ever keep a bunny in a zoo?”

“You’re giving me a headache,” he sighed.  “There are no animals in this place, except for the guy over there.  Other than that…zip.”

“So, I’m not getting a happy hour?”

“I seriously doubt it,” he said.  “No one here is really happy anyway.”

“They seem happy.”

“They’re simply distracting themselves from think about their lives, jobs, money, relationships, what they thought life was going to be like, as opposed to what it turned out to be, and dying.”

“That’s depressing,” she said, looking at the loud crowd that was laughing and drinking.

“Gets them through the night.”

“There has to be more than this.”

“Oh,” he said, “there is.  They all have it, but just don’t recognize it.  They bought into the marketing and can’t see reality any longer. They forgot what matters.”

“Maybe I’m already happy and just don’t realize it either.”

“I’m sure you’re right.”

She grabbed the front of his t-shirt and pulled him toward her.  “My name is Jenny and you just gave me a Happy Hour in a few minutes.  Thanks.  Then she kissed him, smiled, and walked away.

“Wait…” he said.  But she was already gone.

 

 

Comments on: "Neon…Happy Hour" (8)

  1. Haha right may be we are already happy. We just don’t realise it.

  2. woaw – I did enjoy that!

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