The Saga of Clifford and Baldie

A Writing Exercise

The other night over on Twitter (yeah, I know), an acquaintance of mine posted a funny anecdote. The premise was that he and a friend were at a bar and the bartender intentionally botched their names, calling them Clifford and Baldie.

I found this funny and started a little fictional story in the comments section about two guys named Clifford and Baldie walking into bar and things talking an ugly turn.

https://twitter.com/thecasiokid/status/1679597868552790019?s=20

It was just a basic writing exercise but today I started thinking about it again. So I thought to myself, why not continue the story, little by little. Write until I come to a stopping point.

For years, almost every writing project I have abandoned, and I have abandoned almost every writing project I started, has been because of that stopping point. The point where the general idea, the image in your mind, the scene, whatever that is in your head, that’s on the page and you have to think, okay, what happens next.

My stopping point is usually around 500-750 words. Once I move past that I tend to ramble, to lose focus. As I am kind of doing now as I explain what I mean by the phrase “stopping point.”

So without further ado, the continuation of this particular writing exercise. You can use the link above for the origination but each scene kinda stands alone. Maybe you’ll dig it, or at least enjoy following the process along the way.

Here goes…

Baldie’s place is almost always empty, and that’s fine by Baldie. It’s as if the music comes at you from every angle, like a melodic barrage of heavy artillery. On this night the projectile de jour is Judas Priest. And that, too, is fine by Baldie. If you think I’ll sit around while the world goes by, you’re thinkin like a fool cause it’s a case of do or die…you think I’ll let it go you’re mad, you got another thing comin.

There is a lone oasis of semi-quiet in the joint. All the way in the back left corner is an office with no doors, obscured by partial walls. This is Clifford’s corner and where you’ll find him during business hours, Thursday through Saturday, 10pm-1am. And even when he’s not there, he’s there. Nobody sits in Clifford’s corner but Clifford and his guests.

Baldie also has an office, up in the front adjacent to the bar. His does have a door that is almost always locked. Two people have a key: Baldie and Clifford. There is exactly one item in Baldie’s office: the hardware of a sound system that would blow the roof off of most large arenas. Even more than Clifford’s corner, this is the true holy of holies.

Most days you will find Baldie sitting at the bar, chain smoking Marlboro Lights and watching tapes of old professional wrestling matches. Baldie had actually tried his hand at wrestling during his year in high school. Too many rules in both. When Baldie broke the state champion’s leg at a scrimmage, that was his last time on a mat. It was his own school’s state champion, in a weight class well above Baldie’s.

The front door opened and two gentlemen Baldie didn’t recognize strolled in, scanning the empty space. Baldie analyzed the situation instantly: serious guys, but nothing he can’t handle. Before things had the chance to go sideways, Clifford emerged from the corner office, beaming.

“Well look what the cat dragged in!!” The two men went at ease and smiled widely, joining Clifford in a warm yet macho embrace. Clifford motioned the men over to the bar. “Baldie, this is Eric and Tony, two of my oldest friends.” Baldie stood and shook both of their hands firmly, with a nod. Warm embraces were not in Baldie’s repertoire.

“Get ya anything,” Baldie asked as he went behind the bar, briefly glancing at the sawed off shotgun hidden on the middle shelf. “Titos all around,” Clifford exclaimed. As Baldie poured the shots he heard the man identified as Tony. “Kinda dead in here.” His pal Eric chimed in, “and loud too.”

“Just the way we like it, right Baldie,” Clifford replied. Baldie lit up a smoke and nodded. Clifford continued, “Let’s go back to my office. We have so much to talk about.