Mary Todd's Bar

under the bay bridge in astoria there is a brick building with a gnarled up old wooden door. something along the line of mary todds is written on it. In the doors Center is a strange looking compass that welcomes in a little of the fog along with the occasional thirsty kingfisher. whose kingdom is a bundle of yellow and white nets tossed in the bed of a blue 84 ford pickup parked around the back. here the locals always park in the back and fill up on busch beer in the can. inside stacks of cardboard boxes full of empty cans line the hallway leading to the bathroom. the bar is an old solid piece of maple with countless carvings on it, from what looks like pocket knives or fishhooks. scribbeled and carved names like john and neil are everywhere, but the wood looks old enough to have jonah and noah on it. now the whole place smells of salt and whiskey, the kind of salt thats in the air and settles in your mouth under your toungue. nobody know's better than mary herself, they say one day leaning over the bar she looked over her shoulder at the sunlight coming through the window and turned into a pillar of salt. of course that was years ago in the old testament and you know how fishermen tale tall tales, especially at mary todd's.