An ode to to the anonymous trivia host at Sunswick’s “Trivia Night”
"Oh God." He covered his mouth. Did he say that out loud? Did they hear or see him? He darted back into the men’s room and vomited, just barely making it to a toilet.
The group was there again. For trivia night. The two brunette girls, one short and one tall. A tall blonde guy and a bearded dude of about the same height. Their little friend with the glasses and hat would be showing up soon enough. He hated them.
No one ever showed up for trivia night. Why did this group persist? He searched for his phone to text Angela, but it wasn’t there. He left it on the bar. Shit.
Why did he even agree to host a trivia night? Was it that night of erotic Trivial Pursuit with Angela? Dice rubbing up against things which dice shouldn’t be rubbed up against. Erotic rewards for knowing Tony Danza’s costars from Who’s the -
No. He couldn’t think of that now. He washed his face, but couldn’t bear to look in the mirror. He had to go out there and host trivia night, damnit.
He walked to the bar palms sweating. Angela was taking their order. Someone, the bearded one, was clearly mouthing the words “trivia night.”
Grabbing his phone, he walked briskly behind her, slipping a note into her pocket. She was startled, but saw it was him, and turned back to the customers. He didn’t look back at her but he knew what her face looked like already.
He would go back to his apartment, and study the trivia cards again. He would be ready for next week.