It was another Friday night, and I was feeling a little pissed off. My friends and I were supposed to have a night out - drinking, chatting, then going outside wasted and doing something stupid. But all of them, one by one, flaked on me during the day. The last one of them canceled at 6 pm, which is pretty fucking late to flake out if you ask me! I didn't feel like staying in, I felt like going out, doing something adventurous. A night of Netflix and a couple of beers just wouldn't cut it that night.
So I decided to go out on my own. I wore my jeans - a little bit torn at the knees, but I didn't care - my favorite T-shirt and a leather jacket. It actually wasn't that cold outside, I just thought that it looked cool. I didn't care that I didn't have anyone to go with, at least I could explore the city on my own. Go places that bunch of pussies who called themselves my friends would be too scared to enter. I wasn't looking for a five-star restaurant or a shitty after-work bar for all the white-collar fucks. I wanted a place where men went to be men, you know? Where they still remembered what that meant.
And I found something. Or at least something that looked like it. The neighborhood was a little sketchy and there weren't a lot of people around - and those that were looked sketchy as all hell. The walls were covered in so much graffiti that I almost missed the entrance of the bar - probably also because there wasn't any fancy sign or anything. The wooden door just had the word "BAR" scratched into them. No windows either, just nothing. A seedy, shady little fun place where anything could happen. Just perfect for me.
I entered with a curious expression on my face. The place was pretty big, not very packed for a Friday night. Old school rock music was playing from the speakers and the air smelled like stale smoke. The bar was mostly filled with exactly the kind of people I was looking for - big guys, bikers, guys still in their work gear, metalheads - my kind of crowd. A couple of average Joes here and there who looked a little uneasy - probably brought here by their cooler friends. I felt at home immediately.
The bartender was an old school looking motherfucker - bald head, huge beard, and a Guns N' Roses T-shirt, cleaning up a glass with a dirty rag. I approached the bar and sat down on one of the stools. Looked at the bartender, smiled and nodded.
"What's it gonna be for you, son?" he asked me, with a gruff voice.
"Just a beer for starters," I replied, "A strong one. None of any watery shit."
"We're not the kind of establishment that serves that crap, you should have figured that out when you entered the door," he grunted, as he started pouring me a glass. I smirked. What a night this was gonna be - I felt like anything could happen in this place!
A huge jar that was sitting at the bar near me caught my attention. I leaned toward it and saw that it was filled with some ... ropes? No, bracelets, they were bracelets. All of them were purple, plain, and made out of cloth. There was also a handwritten sign on the jar - I had to drag it a bit closer to me to be able to read it.
"THE PURPLE CHALLENGE - ENTRY FEE $20"
"Here you go," the bartender said, slamming the beer in front of me, spilling a bit of the liquid onto the wood. I grabbed it and nodded at him before taking a large sip, while my eyes were still on the jar.
The bartender caught my look. He smirked.
"The jar got you interested, huh?"
"Yeah," I said as I wiped the beer from my mustache, "Tell me more about this challenge."
"Forget about it," he shot me down immediately, "This is a game for real men. Once you're in, you gotta follow the rules, even if you lose. Honestly, you look like the type who would just chicken out."
I took the glass and slammed it back on the table, loud enough for a couple of people around me to turn around. I looked directly into the bartender's eyes, sending a clear message.
"You sayin' I'm a pussy?"
"Just sayin' that this challenge ain't for everybody," he shrugged, talking a little quieter in the sudden silence. He seemed to be taken aback by my gesture. Good.
"Well," I said, leaning closer to him, "Something is telling me that this is just the right game for me. Now, why don't you go ahead and start explaining it?"
He sighed. The guests around us started minding their own business again so he was able to speak up. He dragged the jar closer to him and opened it. I saw him pull one of the bracelets out.
"It's a little game we started a while ago. You pay the money and in exchange, you get this bracelet. You have to wear it every single time you enter the bar."
"I assume that's not all of it?" I grinned at him. He didn't grin back.
"Every single time you feel like playing, you go to the bathroom. There's a long line of urinals in there that goes around the corner into this secluded corner. Non-players piss by the entrance. Players of the game go around that corner, stand up near the urinal and wait."
"Wait for who?"
"Stop interrupting me. Other players, obviously. You stand there and wait. If there's somebody there already waiting, you approach him. If you're not sure, you can recognize the players by the bracelet on his wrist. Once two guys meet there, they have to play."
"Right," I nodded, "And how do I play?"
"You take the urinal next to the guy," the bartender explained, giving me a serious look, "You whip out your dick. He whips out his. The bigger guy wins."
I chuckled at that. Finally, this was about to get interesting.
"What exactly do you win?" I asked.
"The loser has to service the winner."
