Sticks and Stories - 5. If I Had One Wish

It was a quiet night at Bangin' Tap, a quaint bar in the middle of nowhere. Locally owned and operated, people drove miles just to drink at the humorously named establishment. Quirky and funny decor lined the walls, along with the stereotypical sports memorabilia. Every light gave a warm glow– not an LED in sight, aside from a few neon brand signs.

It felt like a home away from home for many men, including the employees. They were all known by name, preferred sports team, and favorite ball cap. Many laughs were had each night, and the speaker system played jam after jam.

This night was different. Mondays had its hiccups, but this one was eerily dead. A few stools and booths were occupied, but the barkeep worried if they would break even.

A jingle from the doorbell clanged, and a man in a trench coat entered. The man seemed weary and broken as he sauntered to a seat at the bar. Eager for business, the bartender took the man's simple order; a pint of Yuengling Flight. Just as he strolled away for the glass, the worker noticed the man fumbling for something in a pocket.

Imagine his surprise when a foot-tall man in a suit was plucked. The frail legs swung with grace before being set onto the counter. As if he was impatient, the tiny man crossed his arms and sighed.

The patron searched the coat's other side, revealing an equally small, classical piano. Once placed, the minuscule being walked to it, sat, and played. An eloquent melody filled the air around the man as the barkeep poured from the draft.

The sight was beyond odd. It should have been impossible. How could a man be so small? Why was he inside another man's pocket? Curiosity got the better of the bartender.

He set the pint down on a coaster and put weight on his elbow. "Sorry," he muttered, "it's none of my business, and it's not against… Well, it's not against the rules for him to be playing music, but how?"

"You mean why do I have a man and piano in my pocket?"

Swallowing out of nervousness, the barkeep nodded.

"You see," the patron said before taking a sip of beer. "You're not going to believe me, but there's a genie out there. He offered to grant me a wish."

"A-a wish?" The concept sounded bizarre and outlandish. Then again, there was a tiny musician stroking piano keys.

"If you hurry," the patron added, "the genie might still be out there on the sidewalk."

The opportunity had to be true. It was too golden. The barkeep dashed around the workstation. Gasps and murmurs came from the other customers as he bolted out the door.

Not thirty seconds later, an endless horde of ducks came through the same door. The people panicked as the flock dispersed in many directions. Obnoxious quacks overpowered the jukebox’s music. A lady shrieked as one hopped on her table, picking at her onion rings. Several ducks managed to climb to the top of the bar, activating nearly every draft beer. One reached the register, nipping at ethernet and USB cords. Bangin’ Tap was filled with birds!

All the while, the mysterious patron and his piano man sat undisturbed.

The barkeep, with feathers sticking out of his clothes, returned with fury. He stomped up to the man, grabbed his collar, and yelled, "That genie! Why didn't you tell me he couldn't hear clearly? I asked for a million bucks. Bucks, not ducks!"

The man glared, equally irritated. "Yeah? You think I asked for an eleven-inch pianist?"