It's a great place. Everyone is welcome, you can spit on the floor and call the cat a bastard and most people won't mind though if you spit in their drink or piss on the pool table, the regulars will take take exception. People come and go, there's a core crowd, but also a steady stream of newbies. Once in a while a newbie comes back enough times to become a regular but not often.
You've got your characters in the ranks of the regulars - the old sage whoose hangs out in his favorite chair. He's respected by most everyone. He's always here, but supposedly he's also building a new and better bar. He'll be happy to tell you all about it if you ask. Also, he can tell you how the walls of this one were put up and what's wrong with them. Then there's the founder. He only shows up once in a blue moon to tell you he doesn't like the beer your serving. There's a guy in the back who doesn't say much but is always there playing the video machine, there's the biologist who stops off after work most days for a drink, but gets more excited about the fermentation process than how the beer tastes and a dozen others, each with their own qwerks...
Most people are thougtful and often enguaged in deep conversations on deep subjects. Afterall, this is the bar where the mysteries of the universe are to be solved but there are exceptions. Some days, a 16 year old kid runs in and before anyoen can stop him, he runs from person to person spouting the most obvious single sentences imaginable. "There's air in here," he says to one guy. "If you drink that beer, your glass will be empty" he says to another. Sometimes he brings dead bodies with him, customers from long past, frozen in conversation on long dead topics. He sits them on a stool and whispers his single sentences to them as they if they can hear him. Then he leaves, leaving them behind to stink up the place...
There's a mental hospital down the street. Every Thursday a guy wearing nothing but a white hospital gown wanders in, sits and the end of the bar and starts talking to himself. From a distance it sounds like he's making sense, but the regulars know better. They've tried to talk to him and failed. They used to try to make sense of his ranting but now they mostly ignore him. He stays for an hour than leaves until next week. Nobody knows why...
Me, I serve them all. Occasionally I get the bat out from under the bar and beat off some kids looking for trouble or call a taxi for soemoen whose had a few too many. Mostly I dispense advice and opinion while working in my spare moments to spiff up the place. It's a living. Besides, isn't that what all good bartenders do?
"So my friend, would you like some bug fixes to go with that .sexrepro?"