The sign read, Free Shuffleboard Pucks at bar. It’s from a haven of all that is Texas and Holy, in South Austin, the Broken Spoke. Been many years since I’ve been there, stopped by for Elaine’s birthday blast, on the way home from working at a similar haven, Nature’s Treasures.
I recall the Spoke on a lonely strip of South Lamar, maybe a car repair garage/shop, broken parking lots with faded stripping.
Now, the Spoke is wedged between two big box condo “mixed use” developments. The place is exactly the same, on the inside.
Due to unleavened brain matters, when I saw the sign over the shuffleboard, my instinctual reaction was a Shakespeare archetype character named “Puck.”
Always a fun role, usually a good part, and excellent comic relief. I just had an image of satyr of some sort, little goat legs, call it a Capricorn, a pan flute of sorts, frolicking along.
“Puck? Yeah, he’s up at the bar.”
It was my takeaway from the words on the sign.
I never said I was right in the head.
One, post-Labor Day, post-earthquake day only!