![]() ![]() The door closed and Maddie remained standing outside. The door opened and the sound of voices and the unmistakable twang of country music spilled out onto Main Street. An indistinguishable hum of voices and music leached through the cracks in the old building sandwiched between Ace Hardware and the Panda Restaurant.Ī couple in jeans and tank tops brushed past Maddie. Maddie Jones stood on the sidewalk in front of Mort’s and stared up at the sign, completely immune to the subliminal lure that the light sent out through the impending darkness. Now, if a woman felt the urge to toss, she got tossed out on her bare ass. Before that, throwing undies like a ring-toss up onto the row of antlers above the bar had been encouraged as a sort of indoor sporting event. Until about a year ago when the new owner had spruced the place up with gallons of Lysol and paint and had instituted a strict no-panty-tossing policy. While other establishments came and went in the small town, Mort’s had always stayed the same. Mort’s had historical significance-kind of like the Alamo. More than just a place to drink cold Coors and get into a fight on Friday nights. ![]() The glowing white neon above Mort’s Bar pulsed and vibrated and attracted the thirsty masses of Truly, Idaho, like a bug light. ![]()
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