The Regulars

 “So, where the hell is this place man?” Charles asked sticking his head into the front seat.
“It's just up ahead, now sit the fuck down.” Mike said sternly from behind the steering wheel. Charles complied.

“Uhm, what was this place called again?” Ken asked trying to compete with the loud rock and roll music that boomed in the car.

“It's called the Happy Happy Tavern.” Samuel said from the passenger seat.

“Happy Happy Tavern?” Mike asked. “What the fuck kind of name is that?” He asked raising his voice.

“Mike...” Samuel started.
“I'm serious man.” Mike said. “I've been to a lot of bars, and none of them have had such a stupid name as Happy Happy Tavern. Why the fuck are we going out into the middle of nowhere for this place?” He shouted.

“Mike! Calm the fuck down and keep your eyes on the road!” Samuel protested. “Now Charles, how did you hear about this place?” Samuel asked.

“Friend of a friend. Apparently if you're first time customers you get free beer for the night. They really want you to be regulars.” Charles said.

“Sounds like a poor business model.” Ken said.

“I'll say, hey is that it up there?” Samuel asked.

The car pulled off of the dark highway they'd been driving on for the last half-hour. The four college students piled out of the car into chilly fall night. Samuel was a math major and the leader of the group, after hearing about this bar from Charles, it seemed like a good idea to come out. Mike was majoring in biology and had anger management issues. The only reason he came along was because he loved beer and would get pissed off if he wasn't invited. Charles loved to party and was an art major, it was his half-baked idea to come out to this bar in the middle of nowhere. Makes sense since Charles was always smoking marijuana. Ken was a business major and he usually liked to keep to himself, he was only here to avoid being alone on another Friday night.

“Hey!” Mike said. “Are we gonna stand out here all night, or are we gonna go inside?” He demanded.
“Yeah, let's go!” Charles said to the rest of the group.

The four of them went inside with Ken dragging behind. Inside, it looked kind of run-down. The bar stools were old and the apolstery was torn up. Same thing with the booths. The counter had a visible layer of grime over it. The other thing that caught them off guard was that there was only one other person there, an old man at the end of the bar passed out in front of a shot glass of liquor. The other thing they noticed was the walls covered in pictures of people. They were all hung under a sign that proudly proclaimed 'our regulars'. Dozens and dozens of pictures of smiling people stared through the frames and yet none of those people were here. The four found a booth and sat down waiting for some sort of service. At that moment the bartender came running out of the back with a notepad towards their table.

“Sorry, didn't here you folks come in.” The bartender said. “What can I get you?” He asked.

“Correct me if I'm wrong...” Charles started “I heard from a reliable source that you give free beer for the night to first time customers. We are all first-time customers.” Charles said.

The bartender laughed jovially. “Free beer for the night?” He asked. “You need to lay off the drugs kid.” He said laughing and the other guys laughed along with him. “You heard wrong, son.” The bartender said. “But, since you gave me such a good laugh, first round is on the house!” The bartender said.

“Thanks man, that means a lot.” Samuel said to the bartender now walking away.

“Charles, you fucking idiot! There was no night of free beer!” Mike shouted at Charles.

“Hey man, honest mistake.” Charles said rifling in his baggy pants pockets for something.

“Yeah.” Ken said speaking up. “Let's just have a few beers and head home, don't let it ruin the night.” He said.

“Charles, what the hell are you doing? Is that a bong?” Samuel asked.

“Yeah, man. We're kicking back aren't we?” Charles asked preparing the bong with marijuana.

“Well, yeah but that's illegal!” Samuel exclaimed.
“Put the damn bong away!” Mike said.

“We'll get kicked out!” Ken said worriedly.

“Here's your beer folks!” The bartender said placing four bottles on the table. “Hold on a sec, are you smoking pot in my bar?” The bartender asked sternly.

“Is that a trick question?” Charles asked sheepishly as Samuel gave him a disapproving look.

“You realize that I could call the cops and you could be arrested right?” The bartender asked.

“Look sir, my friend here is an idiot, can't you cut him a break?” Samuel asked.

“I'm just messing with you guys!” The bartender said. “Here at the Happy Happy Tavern, we'll do whatever it takes to make sure you're regulars. I'm more than happy to look the other way. Have a good time!” He said.

“Uhm, about your regulars.” Ken perked up.
“What about em?” The bartender asked.

“Where are they?” Ken asked.

“You see, many of our regulars are no longer with us...” The bartender explained looking longingly at some of the pictures on the walls.

“Oh.” Ken said as the bartender turned around and walked back to the bar.

“Uhm, you guys?” Ken asked. “Something seems kind of off about this place.”

“Seems alright to me.” Mike said. “Let's drink!” He proclaimed.

“Fucking kids.” A voice said from across the room.

Mike stood up and placed his bottle on the table with a loud thud.

“The fuck you say?” Mike shouted. “Huh, old man? What'd you say bout us?” He shouted at the old man. The old man did nothing, he just returned to his drink.

“Mike, man, calm down.” Samuel said. “You want us to get kicked out? Sit down!” Samuel said tensely. Mike sat down and the four finished their first beers. Right when the last beer had been depleted, the bartender came back.

“Nother round fellas?” He asked.

“Yeah, we'd appreciate it.” Charles said taking another hit from his bong.

“Well, I'm gonna have to ask for your credit cards. Wouldn't want you to leave without paying your tab.” He explained.

The four looked at each other skeptically and eventually pulled out their wallets. They produced their credit cards and placed them into the bartender's hand.

“Much appreciated.” The bartender said. “Looks like the fog's coming in...” He said.

Ken peered out the nearby window. Thick fog had descended into the parking lot. The car was barely visible, it was as if the car was being consumed by a cloud.

“Wow!” Ken exclaimed. “The fog really is coming in! Look everybody!” Ken said excitedly.

“It's just fog.” Mike said flatly. “Chill out you fucking nerd.” He said coldly.

“Fuck you Mike.” Ken said under his breath. “Charles scoot over, I gotta go to the bathroom.” He said as Charles moved out of the way.

Ken made his way into the bathroom and inside he saw something that disturbed him. Tally marks all over the bathroom walls. Tally marks that a prisoner would make to mark their sentence. There were hundreds, maybe thousands of them. They were all red, as if they were written in blood. Ken, thoroughly disturbed hurried to one of the stalls to finish his business as soon as possible. He closed the bathroom stall door and on the door was a fresh line of blood indicating the current day. Ken sat on the toilet thinking about this and he connected the dots. He hurried out of the bathroom and back to the table.

“You guys!” Ken said excitedly.

“What is it dude? You're awfully riled up.” Charles asked.

“I think there's something fucked up about this place!” Ken explained.

“Yeah? How so?” Mike asked sarcastically.

“In the bathroom, I saw what looked like tally marks marking a prison sentence. It lead me to think that the old man over there has been imprisoned here somehow!”

“Ken...” Samuel intervened. “That's the most absurd thing I've ever heard.” He said.

“What the hell would prevent him from leaving?” Charles asked.

“I don't... I don't know!” Ken exclaimed. “Look at him! He looks like he hasn't changed clothes in months!” Ken argued.

“He's a bum!” Mike said. “Of course he wears old clothes! Probably smells like piss too.” Mike said.

“But you guys, I have a bad feeling about this place, we should leave!” Ken said pleadingly.

“Yeah right.” Mike said sarcastically. “Yo, barkeep!” Mike shouted flagging the bartender. “My friend here has an overactive imagination. What's the deal with the tally marks in the bathroom and the old guy over there?” Mike asked.

“Oh my! Your friend does have an overactive imagination! The old man over there has been coming here ever since we opened, see? He's in all the pictures.” The bartender explained gesturing towards all the pictures and sure enough, the old man was in each and every one of them. “He likes to keep a tally of how many times he's been here. He practically lives here! Right Jeff?” He asked the old man across the bar. Jeff gave a weak thumbs up without looking in his direction.

“So... He isn't your prisoner?” Ken asked warily.

“No, but you are.” The bartender said immediately covering his mouth.

“What was that last bit?” Charles asked.

“Nothing! Nothing!” The bartender said blushing. “Just a little dark humor.” He said sheepishly.

“Bullshit!” Mike said. “What kind of fucked up sense of humor is that? I know what I heard, you said we're your prisoners. What's keeping us here? What prevents us from leaving?” Mike demanded.

“Why don't you find out?” The bartender asked opening the door letting cold air and a torrent of fog into the bar.

“Alright, I will.” Mike said downing the rest of his beer and slamming the bottle on the table. He pulled out the car keys that were in his pockets. “I'm going to walk out that door, to the car, then the rest of these guys are gonna follow me.” Mike said confidently. “Right guys?” He asked. Everyone else said nothing.

“I'm gonna prove to you that this asshole is fucking with us.” Mike said getting out of the booth to approach the door.

He opened the door all the way and even more fog poured into the bar. Small clouds rolled into the bar and dissipated due to the heat. Mike stepped confidently outside and the bartender closed the door behind him. A malicious smile formed on his face and everyone was silent for what seemed like hours. Eventually they heard Mike's muffled voice from outside.

“Hey!” Mike shouted. “Where's the car? The fucking car is gone! It was right here!” He yelled. “Why is there so much fucking fog? I can't see shit!” He complained.

The other three at the table still said nothing. They were listening to Mike grapple with the fog. Ken peered out the window again and couldn't even see Mike. In fact it was like the building was pressed right up against a cloud. The outside world was completely invisible. At that moment, they heard Mike again.

“Hey, you guys, there's something out here with me!” Mike shouted, sounding frightened. “St...Stay back!” He yelled.

They heard Mike screaming. A bloodcurdling scream that sounded like it couldn't come out of his body. A twisted part of Ken had the urge to laugh but he didn't. The scream was followed by the sound of tearing flesh, and then silence. There was something in that fog, something that was keeping them here, something that just killed Mike.

“What the hell is out there?” Samuel demanded after the initial shock wore off. No one else dared say anything.

“It's my... My pet.” The bartender explained.

“You're telling me, that you keep a vicious thing in the fog to kill your customers?” Charles asked bewhildered. “Who does that?” He demanded.

“Look at this place!” The bartender shouted startling the three. “It looks like shit! Yeah, I lure people here. Yeah, I send my pet after them if they try to leave. It's a little thing called extortion. You can't leave now, I'm your life-line folks! That's why I took your damn credit cards, if you want to eat, you have to buy it from me!” The bartender explained maniacally.

“Hold on.” Samuel said. “You decided to start trapping people here instead of you know conducting a better business?” Samuel asked.

“It's not that simple.” The bartender explained calming down a bit. “It requires sacrifices. It's not just to keep this shitty bar open. It lives in the fog and it relies on me to feed it. I trap people here for a while, and feed it when the people run out of money. In exchange, it lets me leave this terrible place. I can go home and live a normal life!” The bartender explained.

“And Jeff over there?” Ken asked.

“Jeff has been with us since the beginning.” The bartender said “Right Jeff?” He asked.

“Fuck off!” Jeff shouted drunkenly from across the bar.

“So, this is a fast food restaurant for your monster friend out there?” Samuel asked.

“Yes, and you're next!” The bartender said psychotically.

“But we can fight back, we can kill you.” Samuel said calmly, looking at Charles and Ken nodding.

The three of them simultaneously flipped the table causing bottles and glasses to tumble to the floor. The table launched towards the bartender who quickly lept out of the way. The bartender jumped behind the bar and Samuel followed. The old man sat up and looked around with mild interest. Charles and Ken were close behind Samuel and they had the bartender cornered.

“Come out of there!” Samuel shouted. The bartender stood up and in his hands was a pump shotgun. He pointed it directly at Samuel.

“Back up folks.” The bartender said pointing the gun at the three.

“You won't shoot us.” Charles said.

“Yes I will.” The bartender said firing the gun straight into the ceiling. The noise was deafening, a large hole appeared in the ceiling. Ken's ears were ringing and the smell of gun powder lingered in the bar. The bartender took a moment to reload. Ken froze and looked over at Charles, Charles picked up a bar stool, Ken didn't know what Charles had planned. Charles let loose a loud scream as he started to bring down the bar stool at the bartender. The bartender backed up and shot Charles in the head at point-blank range. Charles' head popped like a grape. Blood and brain matter were everywhere. Ken screamed and Samuel picked up the barstool that Charles had. He quickly brought it down on the bartender's head. Again, and again, the bartender was begging for mercy. Samuel brought the stool down one more time on the bartender's skull with a sickening squish.

“Ken, you alright?” Samuel asked. Ken nodded.

“Wh...What do we do now?” Ken asked.

“I'm gonna go look for help.” Samuel said picking up the shotgun from the floor.

“Samuel!” Ken protested. “You won't be able to see anything, and that thing is still out there!”

“Here's a flashlight.” Samuel said picking up a flashlight from behind the bar. “We're gonna feed the monster, hopefully that will be enough to distract it. You stay here and wait for me to come back. Here, help me pick up the bartender, we're gonna toss his sorry ass out.” Samuel said.

Ken grabbed the dead bartender's legs and Samuel grabbed the arms. They opened the door and tossed the bartender's body outside. They also grabbed Charles' body and threw it out.

“Wish me luck.” Samuel said. “Don't leave, no matter what you do.” He said. Ken nodded as Samuel ran outside. Ken shut the door behind Samuel and looked over at the old man.

“Hey!” Ken shouted. “It'll be alright, my friend is getting help. You'll be okay! Your name is Jeff right?” Ken said. Jeff looked up and gazed at Ken. A creepy smile formed on his face and he started to laugh. A wheezy kind of cackle that made Ken shudder. He continued to cackle and the broke into a coughing fit. After he stopped coughing he finally spoke.

“Your friend won't come back.” Jeff laughed.

“What do you mean?” Ken asked.

“The bartender was a pawn, he played his part well.” Jeff explained.

“No!” Ken shouted. “What about Samuel? What will happen to him?” Ken asked.

“It has to eat.” Jeff said.

At that moment, he heard Samuel shouting from outside. He also heard growling and shotgun blasts. Then he heard screaming and the sickening sound of bones being crunched. He heard his friend Samuel being torn limb from limb. Ken looked up at the old man, Jeff, still laughing. Ken said nothing.

“It should be satisfied for a little while. Now, can I get you another drink?” Jeff asked with a sneer and began cackling again. That cackle echoed in Ken's ears and he collapsed in a nearby booth accepting his fate.