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The Last Beer at Curly's

The last beer at Curly’s
Written by Brent Braaten
You may have heard that Good Robot is building a new production facility in East Hants. But like ships in the night, as we have entered the community, East Hants’ most infamous bar has made its exit.
Everyone has a story about Curly Portable’s Bar & Grill. Heck, most people we’ve talked to have been kicked out of Curly’s at least once. Even it’s enigmatic former owner, Jim Isenor.
Jim converted the property from a funeral parlour into a roadhouse in the mid 80s, just a few houses down from where he had grown up. Jim had moved back to Nova Scotia after spending some time fighting fires in BC where he was affectionately nicknamed Curly because of his full head of voluminous curls. Whenever he was called to a fire on a walkie talkie it was always “Calling Curly Portable”.
Shortly after opening the bar, Curly’s burned down.
Jim built it again to his own specifications, he even coated the fire-scorched oak bar tables with resin so they would tell the story of the fire. (The bar tables currently reside in the local fire department’s lunch room.)
Over the years, the bar accumulated all sorts of curious story-tellers. The walls were covered with chainsaws, every available surface featured a weird taxidermied animal and there were endless shelves featuring empty beer cans from around the world.
One of the taxidermied animals was an Emu. If the legend is true, that same Emu was a blood-thirsty bird who nearly killed Jim in a fight.
Now the bar is empty and cold. As Jim unlocked the front door I could sense some reticence in his voice. Perhaps he prefers the decades of good memories to the pain of seeing it abandoned and empty.
The taxidermy and the chainsaws and the wooden sculpture of Curly himself are gone. All that is left is a dozen playing cards stuck to the ceiling fifteen feet above my head. A professional magician who used to drink at Curly’s would amaze the patrons by miraculously making playing cards stick to the ceiling. Each card had the name of a patron or server written on it with a magic marker. The last storytellers, inexplicably dangling from the ceiling like bats in a derelict transylvanian mansion.
It is here that we crack our cans of Good Robot’s Curly’s Amber and cheers to what will be the last beers ever guzzled at Curly Portables.
Thank you for the tour, Jim. Long live Curly’s!