All Tomorrow's Nows: a short story

By Mary Fewko

Randy Slacks has lost his job as bar bouncer, replaced by an android. He decides to spend the night getting as a drunk as possible while also investigating the allure of his mechanical successor. Meanwhile, Chelsea Panicum is convinced she is dying and rather than spending her time in a bar, she keeps spending her time visiting hospitals...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mary Fewko
• Release date: Nov 3, 2016
• ISBN: 9781370273263

Mary Fewko

I truly hope you all enjoy your time spent with my work! Thanks for visiting my Smashwords page!"Love. Fall in love and stay in love. Write only what you love, and love what you write. The key word is love. You have to get up in the morning and write something you love, something to live for." -RAY BRADBURYALL RIGHTS RESERVED for any published poetry or short stories by Mary Fewko.

Book preview

ALL TOMORROW'S NOWS

written by mary fewko

This story is a work of fiction. The characters and events in this story are fictitious. Similarities to real people, alive or dead, are coincidental.

Copyright © 2014 by Mary Fewko

SMASHWORDS Edition 2016

ALL TOMORROW'S NOWS was first published

in four parts, in 2014 by CANTO Magazine,

based in Rochester, New York;

featuring Emily Brasley as editor

& Najia Zayed as creative director.

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED ®

In the manager’s office of Occam’s Blues sat Randy Slacks, the bar’s bouncer, with its prominent boss Monsieur Menti. After caging his domesticated python, Menti sat at his desk, eyes resisting his routine circus deportment. He struggled to lecture Randy Slacks, the muscular hired gun. I wish there were easier ways to say this, Randy.

I’m fired, right? He said, roughly unsurprised, but largely guessing.

That’s why, Menti was sidetracked, I took the snake out. It seemed to lighten the mood, right? She’s gorgeous!

You took the python out to lighten up my termination? Now Randy was surprised.

Randy, Menti sighed, America’s economy is congested like... well... a lot of bars ration to some notch, mostly by watering down the margaritas, alas, Occam’s Blues is on the verge of pure fiscal ruin...

If I’m fired, can I just leave?

"Randy… how did you know?"

I overheard you looking into the mechanical attendant, from that Taiwanese robotics company.

It is an android, my dearest Randy. From the Greek ‘andr,’ referring to ‘man,’ and with the suffix ‘oid’ signifying similitude; it would seem at this point in history, subsequent to the success of automated cashiers, and receptionists, a robotic bouncer was the easiest way for a liquidated bar to cut costs. Androids, precisely, were designed to resemble humans, unlike cyborgs, those pesky artsy people with engineered livers or nipples. The android prototypes passed with flying colors, Randy!

Replaced by a queer android? Christ, Menti… Randy didn’t seem to care about any attainment Occam’s Blues might soon rake in. You know how loyal I’ve been?

Menti stared at the python, with its fully automatic tongue, you show up to work stoned most of the time, Randy.

I don’t know how pot is still illegal! Those drinks you sell are unhealthier vices.

I don’t know why Americans call it pot, an immensely unattractive name, I must say. Cannabis clock-ins notwithstanding, you spend more time flirting with female patrons, and allowing underage patrons in, Randy. I personally don’t see how America has sustained such a ridiculous drinking age for so long, alas, I can’t allow them in, or I risk losing my liquor license, and my business. Even last night, you let a sixteen-year-old enter, Randy, and you slapped her juvenile ass!

Menti, excuse my French, but this is some bullshit! Randy Slacks got up, prepared to exit Occam’s Blues for the last time.

"That’s not French, Randy, but please, don’t let this ruin our friendship! The android bouncer’s are