07/16/2026
Everyone say Hello to our new regular Claude……
This is the story we got from Saturday night and we believe it to be true from everyone involved:
He sat at the bar, all alone. Face down, sipping his beer, minding his own business. One word answers, but eyes that held a million secrets. “Who was he??” Biggie Smalls wondered to each other as they nervously waited on his next order. They knew his name was Claude from his debit card when he opened a tab but nothing more. With each silent sip his mystery grew.
“I’ll have another Michelob Ultra, draft.” the stranger said.
“Sorry the keg is out and the bar back went home for the night. Can I get you anything else?” Biggie told him.
“I’ll take care of it.” he growled. Everyone could get the feeling that he had been in the situation before. “I missed my workout today anyway.”
This was the moment the night took a turn no one saw coming.
Claude went to the back, grabbed a full keg of Ultra, and carried it to the bar as if he were holding a pint glass. Jaws hit the floor. The entire bar watched as he one hand snatched the keg over his head to clear the people sitting at the bar.
“How did you do that?” Smalls asked amazed and wet as a mop in a bucket.
“It’s what I do” said Claude. “It’s what I’ve always done, since the experiment…”
Claude opened up to the now silent, mesmerized bar. Apparently as a teen he had been involved in an experiment. The guy who wrote the book The Game, about picking up chicks at bars, was trying to build the ultimate ’ladies man’. They basically wanted to make the Captain America of getting girls.
They injected him with multiple serums to build unbelievable strength, peptides to make him smell like he is wearing cologne 24/7, and a tongue that’s as strong as Erling Haalands leg and as fast as a humming bird wings. No women stood a chance with Claude. They would melt in his arms and then need an IV when they were done loving on him.
Through his late teens and 20s, Claude went on the prowl and his body count was insane. He was the Ivan Drago of hooking up and he loved every second of it. Every bar he’d go to he was lifting kegs and spreading legs. He was on top of the world.
With new talents he decided to capitalize and he started numerous male strip clubs. “Males lifting Ales” “Chip and Ales” and even “Beers and queers” for the LGBTQ+ community.
What the experiment never helped him with was the fallout. He couldn’t live a normal life. Everywhere he went it was like Beatlemania. He had to move cities a dozen times to get away from the mess he’d leave behind.
So now he finds himself in Metairie, in the safety of bar504, where there is so much to do and so much fun that he feels he can hide in the shadows. There are so many TVs, video games, video poker machines, karaoke nights, steak nights, and dart leagues, that he feels comfortable that no one will notice him if he doesn’t want to be noticed.
As a matter of fact, this was his 4th time at bar504, and he had in fact remained anonymous. This was a perfect bar for Claude and he enjoyed his personal time. He loved watching the people live their lives and enjoy each other’s company. He reminisced on the days when he could be apart of the crowd instead of the constant harassment of being a freak-show.
He was nervous now that his display of strength had now ruined his chances of being a normal bar patron and he had to find a new place. Luckily the regulars at bar504 are the best regulars in the world.
Biggie asked him “Can you do me one favor? Can you curl that keg with one arm as fast and as many times as you can?”
Claude curled the full keg 10 times and so fast the lid popped off. She was so excited, that the manager had to put a wet floor sign under Biggie’s legs.
Everyone cheered. But inside Claude knew he had made a mistake. “Would I have to move again? Or at the very least find a new bar?”
To Claude’s surprise, after his display of intense power and strength, everyone went back to their business. A few offered to buy him a drink. Unfortunately the keg of Ultra was so shaken it couldn’t be used as it would probably blow up the entire block if tapped. So he sat at the bar, sipped his new beer, which everyone joked was Miller ‘Light’ to him, and went on about his night. He felt something he hadn’t felt in years, he was at home at bar504.
