Faith's Journal - the Last Straw
by Mat Twassel
Copyright© 2022 by Mat Twassel
Fiction Story: Is a soda straw a menace to the earth or part of a pickup line? Illustrated.
Caution: This Fiction Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Fiction Illustrated .
Whew! That’s over with. I felt ever so much lighter. I went to a little tavern down the street from the clinic to celebrate and unwind. The Last Straw, according to the sign over the door. “What can I get’cha?” the well-built but not quite burly bartender asked. I thought about a glass of cold white wine, but reconsidered. Maybe that would be inappropriate. “A Coke or something,” I said.
“You don’t sound all that enthusiastic,” he said, cocking his head to the side and smiling as if he knew my secret.
“What do you suggest—I mean in the way of something fizzy and non-alcoholic?”
He recommended the black raspberry soda, and I said that sounded fine to me. A moment later he set the uncapped bottle on the bar. “Want a glass?” he asked.
“No, the bottle’s fine,” I said.
He nodded, as if in approval, and stuck a plastic straw into the bottle. “Enjoy,” he said. “First one’s on the house.”
I took a sip. It was good. “Just what I needed,” I told the barman. He nodded, smiling seriously.
“But you know what?” The voice came from behind me, and I turned on my barstool. A good looking guy. He almost could have been the bartender’s twin. I almost turned back to the bar, to see if there wasn’t some kind of magic going on. Something done with smoke and mirrors. Best I could recall there was no mirror behind the bar.
“What?” I asked.
“The straw,” he said. “Really bad news for the planet.”
“Straw is bad news for the planet?” I said.
“Uh huh. Did you know that in the typical beach clean-up the most common pollutant picked up is the seemingly innocent straw?”
“I didn’t know that,” I said.
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