[font=times new roman" size="3]The Devil’s Toboggan is a bar.
It could be described as speakeasy-esque being that one would certainly walk past it on the street without prior knowledge. However, thanks to the advent of Google maps and Yelp, The Devil’s Toboggan wasn’t unknown, it was merely nondescript. Nestled in the more recently gentrified historic and entertainment district of New Haven, the exterior was windowless and that of faded bricks. The principal feature was an ornamental double door, in fashionably distressed white paint, with half windows. The name—The Devils Toboggan—was printed in black text across the windows with a skull and cross bones beneath.
The unremarkable exterior and name hearkened to the Prohibition era. The name specifically satirized a famous anti-alcohol Prohibition propaganda poster.The particular patronage of the establishment also echoed the integration, the mingling of all types, recognized as a characteristic of the speakeasy. All (with a valid ID and legal tender) were welcomed and served at The Devil’s Toboggan—humans, vampires, werewolves, demons, and other supernatural creatures, maybe even merpeople if it were underwater. Surely a melting pot must brew conflict. Indeed, many an intellectual battle or romantic strife was raged there. But, never a physical fight. Some said that the owner’s wife’s sister’s cousin knew some mystical lady who cast a spell about the place that prevented violence in exchange for a lifetime of free alcohol. Such rumors were common. And the rumors were fueled by the sensation that one got upon entering that it was somehow already and always impossible to engage in a physical altercation in the establishment.
Upon entering, dead ahead, was the bar. Like the center of the universe, the bar seemed to have its own gravitational pull. Perhaps it was the alcohol. It was a simple long, shinning dark wood rectangle bar with a glowing red light beneath. The bar stools were matching wood with red leather seats and backs. Directly across from the bar on the far wall was a stage used for karaoke, open mic nights and small (sometimes unfortunate) local musical acts, and a modest dance floor. Small round tables surrounded by three or four chairs peppered the space between the bar and the dance floor. Along the walls were lengthy, black leather sectionals. If one were to walk past the bar a second room opened behind revealing billiards tables, darts, one random arcade game of Tetris, the bathrooms, and a perpetually locked door that led to the space above the bar which was used for both storage, office purposes, and a studio apartment.
The apartment above the bar belonged to one of the bar tenders, Anton Keller, who it was rumored also ran the bar for a curiously absent owner. Anton’s apartment could be described as a laughable hodgepodge of mismatched cheap furniture best suited to a transient college student, although he had long since passed that age. The room was organized loosely in sections. A nearly unmentionable kitchen blended into a living space with an uncomfortable futon facing a small flat screen TV mounted on the wall with wires tentacle-ing down to a gaming console (which was the sole purpose of the TV). The living quarters blended into his sleeping space marked by a (never not) rumpled queen size bed (which also faced the TV) and an armoire likely from Ikea. Indeed, nearing his 30s, Anton still owned a hand-me-down uncomfortable futon which was typically littered with his dirty laundry. The one redeeming feature of the apartment was a small balcony overlooking the backside of the building which was just an empty lot. But Anton had a couple of comfortable Adirondacks with black cushions out there and he had strung a length of globe lights.
Anton worked most nights at the bar. A fairly lanky and tall fellow, Anton these days, sported a fashionable shaved-sides haircut with a dashing just slightly left-leaning faux-hawk. His hair was naturally brunette. He frequently, though not always, wore thick, black plastic rimmed glasses over his near golden brown eyes. Being only slightly far-sighted he only really needed the glasses for reading, although he wore them more often due the pile of compliments he got for them. He could be described as handsome with a square-shaped face thanks to a defined brow line and jaw graced by dark stubble.
A closet hopeless romantic, Anton secretly spent his free time writing tender, passionate, loving emails on his phone that he exchanged with a variety of online female companions. Attracting women in real life wasn't exactly a problem for him. Keeping them was the problem. Anton had a propensity for cheap hook-ups with perhaps slightly mentally unstable women with whom he admittedly had no interest in pursuing farther. Who's to say why Anton was so lonely. Perhaps it derived from being raised by a single mother who wept openly over bottles of wine as she watched Eat, Pray, Love or similar rom coms or read sappy romance novels on her oh-so lonely Friday nights. Or maybe it was the hole left from the royal dumping he got from his high school sweet heart upon his flunking out of medical school.
Speaking of medical school, Anton flunked after three semesters paid for by money borrowed from a dubious financial institution. Yes, Anton was horribly in debt. Aside from romantic longing, clawing his way out of crushing debt was the second thing that motivated Anton. Some claim he sells secrets about his patrons. The right amount of cash, could say, buy information about where a certain vampire spends his vulnerable days, for example. These are rumors which Anton vehemently denies. But then again the so-called anti-violence spell certainly protects him from any consequences that may arise from such practices while on the premises, that is...[/font]
It could be described as speakeasy-esque being that one would certainly walk past it on the street without prior knowledge. However, thanks to the advent of Google maps and Yelp, The Devil’s Toboggan wasn’t unknown, it was merely nondescript. Nestled in the more recently gentrified historic and entertainment district of New Haven, the exterior was windowless and that of faded bricks. The principal feature was an ornamental double door, in fashionably distressed white paint, with half windows. The name—The Devils Toboggan—was printed in black text across the windows with a skull and cross bones beneath.
The unremarkable exterior and name hearkened to the Prohibition era. The name specifically satirized a famous anti-alcohol Prohibition propaganda poster.The particular patronage of the establishment also echoed the integration, the mingling of all types, recognized as a characteristic of the speakeasy. All (with a valid ID and legal tender) were welcomed and served at The Devil’s Toboggan—humans, vampires, werewolves, demons, and other supernatural creatures, maybe even merpeople if it were underwater. Surely a melting pot must brew conflict. Indeed, many an intellectual battle or romantic strife was raged there. But, never a physical fight. Some said that the owner’s wife’s sister’s cousin knew some mystical lady who cast a spell about the place that prevented violence in exchange for a lifetime of free alcohol. Such rumors were common. And the rumors were fueled by the sensation that one got upon entering that it was somehow already and always impossible to engage in a physical altercation in the establishment.
Upon entering, dead ahead, was the bar. Like the center of the universe, the bar seemed to have its own gravitational pull. Perhaps it was the alcohol. It was a simple long, shinning dark wood rectangle bar with a glowing red light beneath. The bar stools were matching wood with red leather seats and backs. Directly across from the bar on the far wall was a stage used for karaoke, open mic nights and small (sometimes unfortunate) local musical acts, and a modest dance floor. Small round tables surrounded by three or four chairs peppered the space between the bar and the dance floor. Along the walls were lengthy, black leather sectionals. If one were to walk past the bar a second room opened behind revealing billiards tables, darts, one random arcade game of Tetris, the bathrooms, and a perpetually locked door that led to the space above the bar which was used for both storage, office purposes, and a studio apartment.
The apartment above the bar belonged to one of the bar tenders, Anton Keller, who it was rumored also ran the bar for a curiously absent owner. Anton’s apartment could be described as a laughable hodgepodge of mismatched cheap furniture best suited to a transient college student, although he had long since passed that age. The room was organized loosely in sections. A nearly unmentionable kitchen blended into a living space with an uncomfortable futon facing a small flat screen TV mounted on the wall with wires tentacle-ing down to a gaming console (which was the sole purpose of the TV). The living quarters blended into his sleeping space marked by a (never not) rumpled queen size bed (which also faced the TV) and an armoire likely from Ikea. Indeed, nearing his 30s, Anton still owned a hand-me-down uncomfortable futon which was typically littered with his dirty laundry. The one redeeming feature of the apartment was a small balcony overlooking the backside of the building which was just an empty lot. But Anton had a couple of comfortable Adirondacks with black cushions out there and he had strung a length of globe lights.
Anton worked most nights at the bar. A fairly lanky and tall fellow, Anton these days, sported a fashionable shaved-sides haircut with a dashing just slightly left-leaning faux-hawk. His hair was naturally brunette. He frequently, though not always, wore thick, black plastic rimmed glasses over his near golden brown eyes. Being only slightly far-sighted he only really needed the glasses for reading, although he wore them more often due the pile of compliments he got for them. He could be described as handsome with a square-shaped face thanks to a defined brow line and jaw graced by dark stubble.
A closet hopeless romantic, Anton secretly spent his free time writing tender, passionate, loving emails on his phone that he exchanged with a variety of online female companions. Attracting women in real life wasn't exactly a problem for him. Keeping them was the problem. Anton had a propensity for cheap hook-ups with perhaps slightly mentally unstable women with whom he admittedly had no interest in pursuing farther. Who's to say why Anton was so lonely. Perhaps it derived from being raised by a single mother who wept openly over bottles of wine as she watched Eat, Pray, Love or similar rom coms or read sappy romance novels on her oh-so lonely Friday nights. Or maybe it was the hole left from the royal dumping he got from his high school sweet heart upon his flunking out of medical school.
Speaking of medical school, Anton flunked after three semesters paid for by money borrowed from a dubious financial institution. Yes, Anton was horribly in debt. Aside from romantic longing, clawing his way out of crushing debt was the second thing that motivated Anton. Some claim he sells secrets about his patrons. The right amount of cash, could say, buy information about where a certain vampire spends his vulnerable days, for example. These are rumors which Anton vehemently denies. But then again the so-called anti-violence spell certainly protects him from any consequences that may arise from such practices while on the premises, that is...[/font]
Bitch, I'm limited edition.
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The Devil’s Toboggan - by saronym - 07-29-2015, 09:53 PM
The Devil’s Toboggan - by saronym - 07-29-2015, 10:52 PM
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RE: The Devil’s Toboggan - by megs - 09-12-2016, 06:06 PM
RE: The Devil’s Toboggan - by saronym - 10-24-2016, 02:21 PM
RE: The Devil’s Toboggan - by megs - 05-15-2017, 05:01 PM
The Devil’s Toboggan - by megs - 07-29-2015, 10:19 PM
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