Write a 33-333 word response to the song featured below. (The Smashing Pumpkins “Thirty-Three”.) There are no other requirements for this prompt. Just use the song to inspire a creative response.
The mid-late 1990’s saw the highs and lows of The Smashing Pumpkins. Their songs saw me through my own such times.
Six- thirty felt like midnight, the day already having been a slate shadow, muting even the home team’s crimson and white. Steve pulled the scarf tighter as he made his way through the throngs. Thick beards kept men warm, and doubled as disguises. Then again so did scarves; his subterfuge was complete.
Crossing the last street, he made it for one more trip, his duck / weave tactics still sharp. The Tankard still stood, not having been looted, defaced or the green and blue flag burned. It was the perfect place to not be found. He pulled open the heavy wooden door and stepped inside.
Warm air was the only greeting. Every eye watched the flat screen TV, set to the Archers- Crusaders game, now in the closing minutes. The Archers were not the home team here. Had they been, Steven would have been recognized faster, having graced local sports covers and young athletes’ hearts for a long time. Not anymore.
The bartender glanced his way and shook his head perceptibly. Steve sat down at the stool that had his ass imprinted in it. Without psychic powers, the man found and filled a familiar highball glass. He set it down before Steve.
“What’s new Greaves?” Charlie asked.
“This,” he answered, pulling several folded pages from an inner jacket pocket. “Article in the Sunday insert.”
Charlie kept his gaze on Steve. “Seen it already. The Top 10 Heros to Zeros. You’re #3.” Earlier, someone else had tacked the story up in the bathroom; he had torn it down.
“Yeah, too bad it wasn’t me who died, I coulda made the top spot.”
The patrons began counting down, “3…2…1…fuck yeah! Crusaders the fuck out!” Another heap of blame. Had the paper waited a day, they could have bumped him up.
“’Scuse me, Greaves.” Charlie walked to the crowd, pausing for a bottle and a line of shot glasses. “We did it, fellas!” He set up the drinks, saluds all around, while Steven drank alone.