The Bar at the End of the Universe

Humphrey had lived over a pub in London for about six months of his life the year he was twenty three. It wasn't too much different than this, but yet there was glaring differences, such as the fact that he could leave the other pub, and there was no magical provider taking care of him. Just old Tim, the bartender who had a bit of a gruff attitude and a very keen ear for bullshit. At least he didn't have to pay rent here, but he was still a bit iffy about how great it was.

He had chosen to spend his morning downstairs, enjoying listening to the other patrons more so than the silence of his room right then. He had a beer sitting on his table as he just closed his eyes-a good idea, since sitting and looking like he was staring without meaning to had lead to several bar fights in his past-and listened, relaxing for a bit and wondering if writing a play now would be worth it. Would he ever get back to have it produced? Did he write merely to be produced, or to write? There was a tricky question, one he smiled over.

That was food for thought to keep him busy for the morning, at least.

There was a barking that lead up to the arrival of another one of those faces as-of-now familiar to the bar goers. The door appeared in the back wall and a Great Dane came bounding through, loud barks heralding its arrival followed by a rather irate voice with a British accent and no amusement in his tone calling out "Hamlet!". This was the third time that day the dog had made a break for it, so Humphrey was understandably upset. He had merely been going outside to get some air, and the dog was supposed to be eating. However the feeling of the large dog slipping by him made Humphrey scowl. Great.

When he stepped out onto his porch, however, the noises wasn't right and Humphrey tilted his head to listen more closely. It sounded like...a bar. His eyes flicked around himself, unseeing of the bar now around him, and his hand reached back for the door-that wasn't there.

Hamlet was back and nudging at Humphrey's hand, and the man put his palm on top of the Great Dane's head, "Oh, now you come back, seeing as we aren't in Kansas anymore," Humphrey murmured, unsure of what was going on, and feeling fear beginning to tighten his chest. What had happened? How had he got there? how would he leave? Where was he? The trouble with being blind and in a new place was that there was no markers for him, so Humphrey awkwardly stood in place, Hamlet sitting beside him, for once being a good dog as Humphrey tried to figure out his next step.

"Hello?" It seemed like the best option, really. He wasn't going to find his way back without help, he was sure of that.