Welcome to Creep's Cast.

I'm a bartender in rural Wyoming.

I follow five strange roles.

Written by Mike Prime.

The corner keg sits at the junction of two forgotten highways in Sweetwater County, Wyoming.

It's not on any tourist maps. The wooden sign hanging outside has been weathered to where you can barely read it, and the gravel parking lot is usually occupied by no more than five or six vehicles,

mostly pickup trucks with Wyoming plates, occasionally an out-of-state sedan that took a wrong

turn. I'd been a bartender here for almost a

decade. It wasn't my plan to stay this long, but plans change. Sometimes they change because of

opportunity, sometimes because of necessity. In my case, it was something else entirely. When Harris Reed, at previous owner had hired me, he slid a folded piece of paper across

the bar before I had even felt out the employee paperwork.

On it were five rules handwritten in faded blue ink.

Hey, these aren't suggestions, he said.

His voice gravely from decades of cigarettes and whiskey,

These are so you survive.

I laughed.

He didn't.

Ten years later, I understand why.

I've seen what happens when these rules are broken.

I've been the one to clean up the aftermath, and I've

added my own notes to that same piece of paper which I keep folded in my wallet at all times.

So let me share these rules with you, along with what I've learned about why they exist. Maybe

...