Booby Prize Flash Fiction Competition Entry – Plushie Winner!

I should probably retire. There’s a constant pain just above my left hip. 50 years of working on my feet has worn me out. It’s only nostalgia for the way the job used to be that keeps me here. What used to be a quiet country pub is now a destination gastro-pub, serving up giant meals that grab the attention of doom-scrollers from all over Ireland. I’m relatively safe from change behind my bar. Table service keeps most of the iPhone zombies away from me and the four barstools that remain are only ever three-quarter filled by the trio of regulars who have remained with us since the old days.
I’ve never really understood why they stuck around. They’re a bit odd, I suppose. Tom has been wearing the same cap for 40 years, and exclusively drinks Pernod. Benjamin is a 6-foot tall talking rooster, who loves Juventus. And Janice is left-handed, and allergic to shellfish.
Last Saturday, for the first time since the renovation, all four of the barstools were filled. A four-foot tall Galápagos penguin sat between Benjamin’s right wing and the pint-wielding left hand of Janice.
“Gerry, meet Charlie,” explained Ben, between pecks of stout.
This was the first time I’d laid eyes on the monochrome bird, but his appearance was no surprise. For nearly two decades we’d been listening to Benjamin tell us how he and his wife Margaret – the large heron that runs the pharmacy two villages away – had adopted Charlie from an Ecuadorean orphanage. It seems his natural parents had no idea how to raise a chick who was already taller than them when he hatched, and spoke perfect Spanish.
As I shook his son’s flipper, Ben explained that it was Charlie’s 18th birthday, and he was here for his first legal drink. I announced that, in that case, the next round was on me, pulling a fresh pint of cider for the boy. Just as I carried over his dad’s stout, an order for half a dozen cocktails came in from a waitress, signalling the beginning of the lunchtime rush.
An hour later, a lull in orders allowed me to retreat to my regulars. Janice was lost in today’s newspaper. Benjamin was talking football with Tom.
I smiled at Charlie, unsure at how to start a conversation with any teenager, never mind one from a Pacific archipelago.
“I hope you don’t mind me saying,” he uttered. “It’s just that I’ve always been fascinated by humans’ long legs. I’ve become a bit of an expert on them. And I couldn’t help but notice that when you stand still you put most of your weight on one side?”
I confirmed that yes, I find this the most comfortable.
“From the bit of research I’ve done, it seems that it can cause an ongoing pain just above your hip. Something to watch out for.”

A week on, the pain is gone. And Charlie hasn’t paid for a drink since.