A person walks into a bar...

(This is a short creative writing piece my professor assigned in feature class to work on developing a unique voice. You can tell what's on my mind--even at 8 a.m.)

A person walks into a bar on a dark and stormy night. In fact, so dark that even a Baptist couldn’t find the Light and so stormy it felt like God had broken his Covenant. The bartender was a curmudgeonly old man, Mr. Shteeter, who had owned the bar for most of his life. It wasn’t his first dark and stormy night.

“I’ll have a dark’n’stormy,” the person entering said, her body still a distant blur in the threshold.

Mr. Shteeter reached for the Goslings rum and Ginger beer. He mixed them, poured it over ice, and handed it to the customer. She was the only customer in the bar because of the foul weather, so both Mr. Shteeter and the woman began talking in graveled voices, caused by decades of smoking Menthol Lights.

Of course, as most conversations do, this one started with the weather. They started with the rain, moved to lightening and thunder, clouds, sunny days, hot days, winter days, bad days, and good days. Three hours later, when they had exhausted almost every cumulonimbus cloud in the sky and the costumer finished her drink, the rain stopped.

Coincidentally, she had finished the dark’n’stormy, and ordered a tequila sunrise. Odd, Mr. Shteeter thought, for someone to be ordering a tequila sunrise outside of Sunday brunch, but he mixed it anyways. As soon as she tasted the burnt-orange tequila, blinding sunlight filled the darkened bar.

Only afterwards, did Mr. Shteeter realize the customer signed her check “Mother Nature.”