This is a short-story I wrote, based off Spider Robinson's Callahans Crosstime Salloon series. Lisa suggested I post it up here to let people get a look, so I figure, what the hey!

WARNING: This story contains some mature subject matter. Reader's discretion is advised.

Now that that's over with, on with the show!
----------------------------------

It always seemed to be jolly in Callahans when the people walked in. Of course, it always seemed to be jolly in Callahans in general, so perhaps that's not such a surprise.
Fireside Fill-More had barely started, and Eddie and I were whooping it up by the piano. The fireplace had already been filled to overflowing once, and a second round was being prepared when the door opened and a new face appeared at the door. Only a face, as the music rolled. Long moments later, however, despite the lack of comments or invitations (or perhaps because of them?) the rest of the figure soon followed, and I was almost forced to stop playing for a moment before I could continue.
She was, as I have often described it, how a woman _should_ look. Easily upwards of two hundred pounds, her body was joyful and flabby, her bust delightfully drooped, and her belly wonderfully pooched. She was, as Mary had been, the ideal picture of the lovely lady of the far begone centuries, and yet, from her eyes, I could tell that she was of the breed that is so commonly found in these days.
There are two kinds of truly lush women. Those who are struck down by it, and those who savor each moment, and become stronger in the persecution that they've gained. However, this woman's haunted eyes bore tribute to far more of the first than the second.
It made me want to grab her, wrap her up in a huge hug, and plant a noisy raspberry right on that beautifous stomach of hers. However, I doubted that would be well-recieved. I smiled, instead, and went back to my playing.
Somehow, it seemed that's what she'd been waiting for. Initial reactions at a glance were quickly set aside, and soon enough, people were returning to listening to the rendition of folk that Eddie and I were so bravely trying to play. As though this thought mollified her, the woman made her way to the bar, pulled herself into one of the chairs there, and leaned over, murmering something to Callahan. It didn't take me long to guess what she'd asked, since Long-Drink spoke a little above the music:
"You're not from around here, are you?" he grinned with that contageous grin of his. He was standing, the newcomer was sitting in a tall chair, and yet she still had to look upwards at him. However, her look never shifted from the briefly-cautious one, with the pained undertone still hiding... or trying to hide... there.
Finally, she got up the nerve to ask the question that had been broiling in the back of her mind: "What do you mean?" Her voice was strong as well. Not the booming bass that Mary's had been, however. It was almost eerily light, even with a form like that. The combination made her all the more beautiful, somehow.
"Dis here's Callahan's." called out Eddie from the piano, fingers still working as he ran through his chords.
"That's right." I chipped in, deciding to take my turn at the introductions as well. "I figure you were asking for the cost of drinks. Well, everything here's a dollar." Pausing, I quickly corrected myself, "Fifty cents, if you don't deep-six the glass. Just toss a buck on the table and name your poison."
Her eyes went from haunted to confused in less than a second, held that for long moments, then finally dropped to disbelieving. "You're talking some bull." she finally decided, looking at Callahan himself, as though to check the veracity of that.
However, it was Doc who entered in that this point, calling out over the people, "Nah, they don't talk bull. Udder nonsense, maybe."
Wincing, Long-Drink glared at him. "Stop trying to horn in on me, Doc!" he bellowed. "Calf the time I try to talk to someone, you're always butting in where you aren't wanted." His words were softened by the sharp grin he sported, however, and a few glasses hit the fireplace at the simple run.
Doc's hand went over his heart, his eyes going wide. "Horning in?" he asked, his eyes brimming with utter innocence. "I'd never think of anything like that! Cud out the accusations until you've herd more."
"I dairy to come here and say that!" said Long-Drink in a wink, pointing at the floor.
Since the music was temporarily interrupted, I leaned over to whisper conspiratorially to our poor newcomer, who was starting to look like, if you'll pardon me, a poleaxed steer. "You get used to it here." I murmered.
"I can just bet." she finally said, managing somehow to get her tang untungled from its confusion. A moment later, and she cracked the first half-smile I'd seen from her. "And I pray to bovinity that I'm never here when it's worse."
A chuckle erupted from the bar, as Callahan slung a glass of something dark and rich over to her. "Here you are. If you're willing to put up with those two long enough to actually make a pun of your own, you deserve a drink."
Smiling, she thanked him, dropping a much-battered dollar bill on the bar. Apparently, she was willing to believe our 'wild' story, though the slightly stiff expression she wore seemed to suggest she was waiting for the laughter. When none came, she immediately relaxed, tipping back a good sip of the drink and smiling warmly as it hit her. Kahlua. I could smell it when she asked, "Are you planning to get back to playing? I could hear it from outside, and I'd like to hear some more."
"Sure!" bellowed Eddie like a rusty foghorn, snapping me out of my momentary study of her form in detail and yanking me back to reality. "We wuz just ready to start back into it!"
And so we were. Once I'd gotten my eyeful, I decided to let her have her earful. Besides, that _was_ what this night was for. Doc and Long-drink were staring one another down in a good-natured way before they both barked out in laughter, heading over to the bar. Standing side by side, they looked rather humorous. Sort of like a blimp tied to a pole. Unable to help myself, I immediately started up a rousing guitar chord of 'Jack Sprat'.
Guffaws erupted from the bar, and more than a few glasses hit the fireplace at that. This time, now that she was a little more 'here' and less 'there', the woman startled at the breaking glass. She didn't even ask verbally, she just looked expectantly at Callahan. And God Bless Mike, he read the look like an expert.
"That's what Jake over there meant by deep-sixing your glass." he says. "And if you have a toast to make, it's the best way to do it. Dash your glass, declare your toast, and get yourself some agreement."
"Or something to start up more puns." added Doc, glaring at Long-Drink for a moment, then at me. I almost successfully resisted the urge to laugh. Almost.
"Or have a little something to add to the conversation." said Tom, who was taking a moment off, flopped out at the opposite end of the bar.
She seemed to brood about this for a few moments. "Anything?" she finally asked, almost cautiously.
"Hell!" burst out Long-Drink. "_Anything_ is an understatement around here! Why just last week, I was making a toast to a dear friend of mine who was fired from his job at Sea World."
Silence reigned for long moments before Eddie helpfully asked, "Why's dat, Drink?"
The Drink sighed melodramatically. "He was getting bribed by the dolphins. They kept slipping him the fin."
Groans erupted from all sides, followed by a hail of beernuts. Most of which missed Drink and pattered off Doc's bulk. All the good Doctor did was duck and bear it.
"Oh!" spoke up the woman at the end of the bar, downing the remainder of her own drink, an almost recognisable sparkle in her eyes. It somehow reminded me of Doc moments before delivering a real stinker. It almost scared me. "I thought it had something to do with car trouble."
Long-drink looked puzzled, but obligingly delivered the straight line. "Car trouble? What do you mean?"
She shrugged expressively. "Oh, I just heard something about how he blew a seal."
And the whole Place erupted.

A small handful of nuts found their way towards her, landing in her hair and hanging there in an unrecognisable snag. A couple people gave her the supreme accolaide, by pinching their noses and running, screaming, into the night. Another few folks clapped her on the shoulders with ribald laughter, and a second kahlua was slid towards her. "Lady," declared Drink, once he could breathe again, "I _can't_ believe you said that!"
Winking, she admitted, "Neither can I." before triumphantly downing another mouthful of her drink. The nuts were apparently forgotten, as she studied this second glass for a long moment. Her first one laid empty, but when Callahan went to sweep it up, she held out her hand. "Not yet." she murmered. "Gimme a minute to think things through."
Nodding, Callahan went back to his bar-polishing, calling out, "Alright, you guys. This is Fill-More! Not Punday! Now settle down and play!" Truth be told, he was grinning as much as any of us.
And oh, did we ever fill-more. Song after song, we played, and during at least half of them, this voice would help fill things in. At first, it was hesitant. Nervous. It took me a moment to register that it came from the woman, and as soon as I looked her way, she shut up. However, a few of the guys noisily started in on a couple, and she soon plucked up her courage. In truth, I rather wish she would have done more. Particularly when she was the only one singing. Her voice was wonderful. She seemed to have perfect pitch, and an incredible range. All in all, I almost wished that I had her around more often. However, from the smiles that were already beiong passed, it was apparent that she was starting to feel like this was home.
Maybe I would have her around more often, after all. Somehow, I was delighted to have such an attractive backup singer.

Those two drinks were apparently her limit, as she studied the second glass. Finally, she slid back down the bar, turning to pick up the first empty. After a moment, she pushed herself up from the chair, studying the fireplace. All of us knew _that_ look, and while Eddie and I brought the song to a conclusion, the rest of the bar settled in to listen, and to nod and smile silently among one another.
It was a long moment, but finally, she looked into the depths of the empty glass. "I don't know how to go about this." she said after a moment, smiling slightly. "But I guess this is about the best way. You said this was your night to bury the dead in the fireplace? I can't think of a better night to be here, then."
Her arm tensed, momentarily, before her breath escaped her. It was only then that I realized she'd been holding it, and when it released, a tear ran down across her cheek. "To love!" she declared, arm snapping the glass into the fireplace. "....and the loves we've lost." she added, before stepping back to collapse in her chair, looking down at her hands.
There was no explosive release of tears. No sobbing and bawling. There was no sudden increase in drinking. There was no addition. However, there was no leaving, no hysteria... no nothing. Her comment was made, and here she sat, staring at her hands and crying silently. Somehow, I almost wish there'd been more of the second. There was just something wrong, but due to Callahan's rules, no one would ask any further. Prying was always answered by Eddie's blackjack across a temple, and no one wanted that to happen. He was dreadfully accurate with his aim.
"I'm really sorry." came Doc's voice finally, as he walked over to offer a hand on her shoulder. I was somewhat relieved that instead of pulling away, she took the fingers and grasped them tightly. Still, it didn't have the feeling of plain mourning. And anyway, if it had been, why did she end up here?
"So am I." she answered with a slight smile, looking up with tears glistening. "As sorry as I can be." Looking around at the rest of us, she shook her head and sat another dollar bill down on the bar. Callahan passed her another, and she examined it as she had the other two. It was almost as though there was truth in the thick fluid, and she were trying to discern what that truth might be. It was just another clue to me that there were still problems unresolved.
As much as it hurt, I knew what I had to do. I drank down the rest of my Tullamore, turning to hurl it at the fireplace. "To love." I echoed. "And those we've lost." I could feel my throat knotting up hard. "I think it's happened to us all." For a moment, I tried to bring them up. My wife. My daughter. I couldn't, I realized, finally, unable to get the words out.
Doc came to my rescue, however, pitching his shotglass idly into the fireplace and declaring, "And to those who we've lost early. Like Tom Flahtery."
Tom. Why hadn't I thought of Tom? Maybe Doc was more wise than I thought sometimes.
"To TOM!" echoed several voices, sending the glasses into the fireplace with a ringing report, leaving the girl sobbing into her hands. Now, though, the tears were sharper. Less-restrained. The toasts had broken a dam, though the reason for it was still, frustratingly, hidden.
Callahan's meaty hand patted her shoulder, and as soon as she looked up, he smiled just a little. "This here's my place." he declared. "If you want to name your loss, we're not going to ask any snoopy questions. We don't care what he did, what happened to him, and what went on. All we care here is that you've lost him, and that we're glad to be your support."
Nods echoed from around the room, both male and female alike. "We'll even be glad to hold a proper Wake!" declared Drink, who'll drink to anything, truth be told.
More silence reigned from the girl as she drank thoughtfully. She paused, then decided aloud, "I think I've had enough to finish thoughts up. Either this is going to get me kicked out of here and chased out, or... well, either way, it'll be good to get it out." Her glass was raised and studied one more time, emptied, then pitched for the fireplace. Apparently somewhat tipsy, the throw was weak, and only barely shattered against the brick. Only the fireplace's refraction kept it from scattering the hearth. "To love!" she declared again. "And those we've lost."
A moment more of silence, and she added, a lot softer, "It knows no species." before dropping her head to her hands and sobbing.

If it were any other bar, there would have been raucous laughter. If it would have been any other bar, they would have immediately attributed it to the drinks. However, this was Callahan's.
The very first words out of someone's mouth was, "What planet was he from?" The woman looked up, glaring at me (for it had been my mouth) with a near-fury that suggested a sharp reaction.
"I wish Mick was here tonight." suggested Tanya Latimar. "I'll bet that he and Mary would empathise with you _perfectly_ well."
"Yah!" said Eddie cheerfully. "An' they might even know where you're talking about."
Her eyes snapped from person to person, first angry, then confused, then just dumbfounded. For a moment, she actually looked like she believed it all. A long moment, in fact. Then, the almost prerequisite disbelief touched her features.
"It's true." Callahan said, before she could say anything. "Mick's an alien. And Mary's his wife." The words bored slightly into me, but I didn't let them hurt. Not as much as I could have. "They've been all over the galaxy. If anyone'd know how to get in touch with a different race...."
Suddenly, she burst out into laughter. It was half-crazed, maybe, but at the same time, hearty. "Oh, no." she finally said. Whether she believed us or not, she apparently didn't care any more. Her eyes, when she looked up, had the same haunted expression. I realized, suddenly, that it wasn't her weight that reflected there. It was a different sort of persecution. "I don't think... I mean, I don't... oh gods." She sobbed once more, wiping her face. "Maybe I'd better just tell the story."
The whole bar quieted down, now curious at what she had to tell, and turning our full attention to her. The girl stood, vaguely unsteadily, and declined the drink offered by Callahan. She then looked us over, drew a long and deep breath, and started to explain.

"He just came into my life one day, a little more than a year ago. I don't know if anyone really believes in love at first sight..." A few glasses hit the fireplace, mine included, as she paused for a moment, and she nodded appreciatively, before continuing. "...but I know I do. I did when I saw him. He was... well, 'handsome' isn't the right word. 'Cute' doesn't fit. 'Intruiguing' is just so... cliche. He was 'right', I suppose, is all I could say. He was... just right, somehow." There were a few understanding nods from the listeners, though no one said anything. "At first, he was pretty shy." she continued, with a slight smile. "So was I, I suppose. I really wasn't sure what people would think about... us. I know for sure that there was no way I could tell a lot of people. In fact, I almost tried to chase him off once or twice. Luckily for us both, though, he was more persistant than I was, and he eventually won me over. He had a way with the language, I suppose."
Tears filled her eyes for a moment. "It got to be like I'd never been without him. He was always there when I needed him, to help dry my tears.. to listen to whatever problems I had to say, and to rejoice with me. He never once asked for anything but my own love, and I never withheld it from him. Ever since those first days, I suppose, I was in love. Deeply in love with him."
Wiping her face, her shoulders shook for a moment, restraining the sobs just below the surface. "Oh gods, we were so _close_." she all but wailed. "I knew him, he knew me, and we never even _did_ anything. I mean, nothing really sexual, you know?" Her look to us was near-embarrassed, but the rest of us were still listening. That seemed to comfort her, for she smiled her thanks and continued. "Oh, I mean, we played around a little... but we never actually _did_ anything. Once again, he was more stubborn than I was. I was interested. He wasn't." Her shrug was more expressive than any words could have been. "I would have done anything for him, and never pushed him into anything. I loved him too much for that, and I would rather have slit my own wrists than hurt him. Or... gods forbid, lose him."
She looked to the bar, reaching over and picking her last empty up. This one didn't warrent the study that the others did, as she continued talking all through this. "He... he did, though. I mean, I did. Lose him, I mean. He was kil...." Her voice broke up, and it took several heavy swallows before she could continue. "...killed, for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Shot down. He did _nothing_." Her voice was pitched slightly, a tone that betrayed the pain of the moment. "Nothing but be in the wrong place, and the b*stard had a gun." Squeezing her eyes shut, she whispers, "I hate to say it, but I'm glad that b*stard's dead. Stomach rupture." she answered, before any of us could guess or assume. "Caused by being an alcoholic." Her eyes never roamed to any of us, she didn't look pointedly at the drinks in our hands, and in fact, walked over and proffered the glass, asking for a refil. Me, I drank my new Tullamore Dew, too stricken to know what to say.
Finally, her new drink was downed in a shot, her throat barely seeming to move with the swallow. "But it doesn't bring him back." she said to the room in general. Her new glass was given the same reading look as the others, then quickly she turned on the fireplace. "So here's to him." she called, her voice carrying more, now, tainted with the tears. "His name was Rufus." Her arm snapped, sending the glass violently into the coals, a few drops of alcohol causing the flames to flare slightly. ".....and he was a dog." she sobbed, finally, collapsing to the floor, her legs just giving out.

All the jokes that could have been made, and no one could say anything. Perhaps, like me, the people were suspecting something like that. Perhaps, like me, they hadn't wanted to believe it. However, just like me, everyone was stunned nonetheless. And guiltily, I realized that the first thing that went through my mind was, 'But she looked so normal to me.' I passed a guilty glance around to the rest of the bar, and was at least relieved to see that most of them were passing the same look around.
Tommy was the first one to speak up, and even his voice was slightly softened. "A dog? You mean, like, just a dog?" He almost sounded like he was vocally cringing, and I could understand it.
"No." answered the woman, shaking her head. Her eyes never turned up, though. "No, not 'just a dog'." Her voice held as much snap as I've ever heard in anyone's voice. "That'd be like me saying that you're 'just a kid'." She looked up for a moment, her face red with more than just sorrow. "Or that that guy's piece is 'just a guitar'." She was pointing directly at Lady MacBeth. Touche. She had good eyes.
Tommy shut right up, looking like he wished he could just crawl under a table somewhere.
"Not 'just a dog'." repeated the woman. "I am so sick and tired of hearing that that I could almost kill myself. ALMOST." she said, quickly and loudly, as though to shut us up from giving her the 'live life' speech. A couple of mouths shut. Like I said: she had good eyes. "I respect life too much for that, and Rufus wouldn't have wanted it that way. I wish I could explain what he was to me. He was... he was..." Words failed her.
"He was someone you deeply loved." finished Callahan for her, looking down at the floor. "You know, sawdust sticks to pants terrible-like. You might want to get a hand back up to the bar."
A moment of silence, and Long-Drink piped up with, "I still say we should hold a wake. Every important person needs a wake held for him! I don't see why this is any different!"
Voices started to strike in chorus from all around, first hesitantly, then a little more enthusiastically. It was only Tommy who was apparently still puzzled, looking at the woman as she staggered her way to plop down in a seat. "I don't understand." he finally said. "I mean, how can you love... well, I mean, he's a close pet, and I can understand that, but...." He was really trying hard not to be snoopy. It was obvious.
Then came the saving grace. I don't know what any of us would have done without him, but I don't try to think about it. It scares me too badly. All I can wonder, though, is how he got through the door without any of us knowing. All I remember is that with all this, there was suddenly a voice at the door. A rich, deep, and very caring one.
"But nothing, Tommy." said a rich German-accented voice. "Love is love, and like the lady says, it knows no species." And in walked Ralph Von Wau Wau, and almost sent the woman falling over in startlement.
For you see, Ralph is a talking dog.

For long moments, nobody moved or spoke. Indeed, it wouldn't have surprised me if the whole place was holding its breath. Everyone was waiting to see just how she would react. None of us had to wait too long, thank goodness. Dropping off her stool and to the floor again, she looked at the approaching dog. "If this is someone's idea of a joke," she said after a long moment, "It might be funny later. But it isn't now."
"I can assure you, miss, that it's no joke." said Ralph as he sat down by the end of the bar, looking at her. "I am a dog, and I am talking. And that is a story for a later time, I think." He looked at the bar. "These people already know it, anyhow."
A chorus erupted from the people at and around the bar. "Hey Ralph!" "Yeah, do we ever." "Makes a great shaggy-dog story." "Hey Ralph, pull up a seat and have a drink!" Mike was already pouring his usual shot of scotch, very likely startling the woman even more. She didn't react, though, standing and pulling herself back to a seat near the fireplace, apparently so she could get a better look at Ralph. Her eyes spoke eloquently: She couldn't believe it, but apparently was willing to. Maybe she'd blame it all on the booze later.
Finally, as the drink was passed down to the floor, Ralph lapped it up and caught the glass in his teeth. Walking over, he found his usual place by the fireplace, looking at the flames for a moment. Then, a snap of his head cast the glass he was carrying into it, and he called out, "To love." Silence reigned for a moment, before he stretched out into his comfortable spot, looking up at the still-stunned woman on the chair. "May he never forget you."
And to that, she burst out crying again, harder than before. This time, however, it had the feel of a healing cry. It may have been something similar to what all of us were saying, but from Ralph's mouth... well, it just plain meant more. He'd understand, after all. Probably better than any of us could. It therefore wasn't the least surprising that several more glasses hit the fire. Nor was it a surprise when the girl eventually eased out of her chair to embrace Ralph, sobbing her tears into his fur. Anywhere else might have tried to offer more support. However, it seemed to me that Ralph was doing more than enough for all of us, at the moment. Now that she'd had her release, all she needed was a soft shoulder to cry the last bit out. And Ralph, by god, had the softest shoulder of all of us, even if it shed. Thus, I turned my attention back to Lady MacBeth, turning her up and nodding to Eddie. Eddie, bless his heart, read the gesture like a master. No more than seconds after my glance, he was starting into the opening piano lead to one of our practiced tunes, and I was off and playing again. Soon enough, the place was rolling again, everyone leaving Ralph and the young lady to their silent mourning. She needed the release, after all, and Ralph was the best to accept it.
When finally, one of my songs was joined in on the chorus by a soft female voice, I let myself look over to the corner. Having recovered herself, even though her face was still stained red and soaked with tears, she was picking the music up again. And you know? I've never heard a song as sweet as came out of her mouth. It was as though she was trying to put the last of her feelings into the song. Whatever thanks that she couldn't voice in words, she was doing it in music. And you know? I think we all recognised it in one way or another. Even the tone-deaf among us.
By evening's end, people were starting to settle in, a few bodies filtering out the door to leave. As the girl stood, Ralph did as well. "I have nowhere to go. Let me walk you home."
A moment's surprise was finally interrupted by a bright smile. "Sure, Ralph. Thanks. I appreciate that." The rest of us recieved a nod as well. "All of you." she added. "I appreciate your listening."
"Don't thank me," Tommy said sheepishly. Gesturing to the furry form beside her, he said, "thank Ralph. he's the one who understood."
"No, my friend." Ralph's head shook to and fro. "I may understand, but you are the ones who were willing to listen, first."
Nodding, the girl agreed with him. "It's more than most people would do." she said, with a soft voice. Shy, suddenly, of the overwhelming attention being dealt to her. "If it wasn't for that, I would have left before Ralph came in. Or I would have just drunk myself senseless, and then not known he was real, even."
With a bark of laughter, Ralph and Doc spoke together. "And wouldn't that be a dog-gone shame?"
Laughter echoed, as both the young lady and Ralph walked out into the night.