When I taught high school English, I thrilled to be able to expose my Honors student to Oedipus the King. Years later, I have revisited the legend. “Oedipus Rex Walks Into a Bar,” was originally published by Egg + Frog, November 2024

Oedipus Rex Walks Into a Bar

I found him at the bar. “May I join you, your highness?”

“Glad to have the company.” He motioned vaguely to the stool beside him. “I’m not the king anymore, so you can skip the formalities. Call me Rex.”

“I’m Homer.” He extended his hand in my general direction. I took it and shook it. “I’m surprised to see you drinking alone.”

“It’s my daughter’s day off. She parks me in a different bar every Thursday.” I noted the dark sunglasses with a black frame and thick lenses covering the sockets where his eyes had been.

“Why always a different bar?”

“I make people uncomfortable.”

“I have the same problem. I’m a trial lawyer.”

I slid into the stool beside him and noted his empty shot glass. I motioned Camille over. Camille Brill works the morning shift at the Wander Inn. Not much business at the bar now so Rex and I could talk in relative privacy. “Camille,” I said heartily, “the man’s glass is empty. That’s not like you.”

“The lug doesn’t carry cash and doesn’t have a credit card. Says his daughter will pay the tab when she comes back for him.” She leaned in and glowered. “Like shit she will. I don’t know this guy.”

His hair was grey but still full-bodied, stretching down past his shoulders. His face was a map of the long road he’d taken to reach this place. A white cane leaned against the bar.

“Sure you do. It was all over the news…. This is Oedipus. He used to be King of Thebes.”

“And I used to be Princess Diana,” she scoffed.

“What are you drinking, Rex? It’s on me.”

“I thought I’d work my way through their selection of Irish whiskeys,” he said, his voice filling the room. He lifted the empty glass. “I started with the obvious.”

I raised my eyebrows and Camile explained. “A Jameson Black Barrel.”

“Good choice. Are you a fan of Irish whiskey?”

“It’s not my liquor of choice. I favor single malts, but I wanted something different.” He motioned with his head in the general direction of Camile. “The Jameson was her suggestion.” It was one of the pricier whiskeys at the bar.

She glowered. “That was before he stiffed me.”

I waved her off. “I’ll cover if his daughter doesn’t.” He didn’t need any more grief. “And bring us a couple shots of Teeling’s Single Pot Still.” Camille wasn’t happy, but she couldn’t deny it was a good choice.

“I thought you were in court today….”

“My first witness was a smoking gun. After cross-examination, they made an offer my clients couldn’t refuse. I can take the day off knowing there will be a big check waiting for me.”

“The law is a dirty business.” She shook her head and went to get our whiskey.

“Let me hang up our coats while Camille get the next round.” I took off my black cashmere Burberry car coat and picked up the camel hair coat draped on the stool beside him. It was hand-tailored, finely crafted, now worn thin. I hung the coats on the hall tree at the end of the bar along with his cane.

“The Black Barrel matured in charred bourbon barrels,” I told him. “That’s why it delivered the intense toasted oak flavor.”

“And the Teeling Single Pot…?”

“Ages in new oak, bourbon, and sherry barrels. It delivers a warm gentle heat.”

“Can I surmise you know your way around Irish whiskeys?”

“Too much practice. Too much time drinking alone.”

“Time alone?” He huffed. “That’s a luxury and a curse. Antigone, my seeing eye daughter, is getting restless.” He talked in my general direction, his head sometimes bobbing, distracted. “She’s meeting Creon’s kid Haemon for lunch. More than lunch, I suspect. She was in a hurry. They’ll need a room. That shouldn’t be a problem. We’ve got Diamond Tier points with Hilton Honors. Haemon’s visit is why she forgot to leave the American Express card. After she gets her bell rung, she’ll call the bar and check on me. Can’t blame her, though. She woke up one morning a princess, next thing she knows she’s a guide dog for a disgraced father who turns out to also be her brother.”

“That is a plateful.”

Camile arrived with the whiskeys. She guided his hand to the glass. Her hand linger a moment longer than it needed. She was warming to him. Even in exile and disgrace, he remained ruggedly handsome.

Rex lifted the glass, savored the aroma, then took the first sip. He broke out in a grin before swallowing the rest. He slapped his hand on the bar. “Hell yes! That’s what I’m looking for.”

I turned to Camile. “Maybe bring us a bottle….”

He laughed. “Don’t try to keep up. I can drink you under the table.”

We fell into an easy rhythm alternating origin stories with whiskey shots. Camile brought us glasses of ice water and plate of fried pickles. “On the house,” she whispered.

He motioned for her to stay for a moment. “My own curse banished me, but that doesn’t mean I’m without resources. I came away from Thebes with a nice pension and a book deal. I do consulting work.”

“Good to know,” she said, pensively, as if the information needed processing.

After Camile’s departure Rex turned to me. “Tell me about your court case.”

“A class action suit against Circe. You know, Helios’s daughter.”

“Who are the plaintiffs?”

“Sailors wives. Claimed that after the goddess turned their husband into pigs, they were never the same again. We sued for loss of income, alienation of affection.”

“Tough case to win.”

“Not when Odysseus showed up to testify. He is one a smooth talker.”

“I thought he was trekking up north somewhere. Something about carrying an oar to a place where people would mistake it for a winnowing fan.”

“Poseidon’s dumb idea. A way for Odysseus to demonstrate fealty. He did enough to satisfy the God of the Sea, then caught the redeye flight to make the court appearance. I owe him for that.”

Camile reappeared. “Gentlemen, I have a request.”

“What’s in it for us?” I asked.

“Homer. That’s rude. Let the beautiful young woman talk.”

Camile was taken aback. “I’m neither beautiful, nor young.”

Following her voice Ed reached out and touched her arm. “My queen, I have no sight, but I’m not blind. Your essence is enduring; you’re in the infancy of your life. Your beauty vibrates in your voice….”

“Cut the bullshit, motherfucker,” she told him. She pointed to the empty whiskey bottle. “It’s time for the noon crush. Maybe it’s time to pack it in.” I shook my head. Things were just getting interesting. “Well, if you want to stay, I’ve got a table for two in back by the men’s room.”

“The worst seat in the house,” I added.

Rex considered it. “Maybe Homer was right after all… You think we’ll scare away the lunch crowd. So, Camile, what is in it for us if we give up our choice seats?”

She leaned in. “My shift ends at two.”

He rose up to his full majestic height. “Perfect.”

“For what?” I asked.

“My calendar is clear at 2 pm.” He laughed. “Until then why don’t you bring us a couple of bacon cheddar cheeseburgers, bourbon baked beans, your world famous coleslaw, and a basket of onion rings. We’ll also need another bottle of whiskey. What do you recommend?”

“A 21-year-old Redbreast….”

He leaned in to me. “Doesn’t that sound dirty….” Rex chuckled, and Camile laughed with him. “ Order up!” he called out.

I escorted him to the men’s room for a much needed relief. At the urinals he commented, “One of us is going to get lucky.”

“You,” I told him. “It’s your lucky day.”

“How do you know the invitation wasn’t to you?”

“I already knew when her shifted ended. She was speaking to you.”

The Redbreast, clean glasses, a pitcher of ice water, and a rose in a small vase were waiting for us at the table. I poured. Over burgers and bar food we traded war stories. “Happy people don’t need lawyers,” I told him. “It’s tough to remain positive.”

“Cry me a river,” he slurred back, the whiskey finally making a dent in his steel persona. “Try dealing with a plague, an ancient curse, and a wife who insists on mothering you….”

“Would you like me to describe Camile for you?”

“No. I really do sense her beauty. I have an image of her. My fingers will fill in any blanks.”

“How long has it been…?”

“Since when?”

“The last time you were with a woman….”

He roared with laughter, then caught himself. “Last Thursday. Then the Thursday before that. Then the Thursday before that.”

That’s when it dawned on me. “Antigone drops you off at a different bar every week….”

“Awkward to go back. After my tragic experience with Mother, I’m not good about commitment.”

“Understandable.”

“My time is short, though. Even if Camile and I connect, my daughter and I are called to go to Colonus soon to complete the rest of my story. The prophet Tiresias keep sending urgent texts that the cycle must continue. The time for dying is coming upon me.” For the first time since I met him, Rex sounded somber.

“I beg to differ. You’re like a spirited race horse, undeterred. Camile will have to be on the top of her game to keep up.”

He raised his glass, ready to savor the last whiskey. “No, my friend, sadly only the gods can never age, the gods can never die. ‘All else in the world almighty Time obliterates, crushes all to nothing’.”

“That sounds familiar,” Camile said. She’d arrived at our table, tab in hand. She’d already changed into yoga pants and an Indiana Fever tank top.

“Sophocles,” he told her.

I settled up the bill and over-tipped her as usual. Rex wasn’t sticking around, but I’d be back in a day or two. My hope springs eternal.

“Let me get my purse.”

“I’ll grab my cane….” After she left he turned to me. “You know, my daughter will be swinging by when she finishes with Haemon. Maybe stick around, grab some coffee, sober up a little, so you can make a good impression.”

“But she’s with Haemon….”

“My daughter has a voracious appetite for all of life. She senses her time on Earth is also short. Feed her hunger.” He paused. “And lead with the fact you’re a lawyer. She debated in high school and plans to go to law school. She likes craft beer and hot pretzels with stone ground mustard. I’d consider it a personal favor if you show her a good time.”

“How can I refuse?”

Camile appeared. “Ready Rex?”

“Born ready.”

“Good answer.”

Camile slapped him on the butt, then took his arm and escorted him out of the bar. The only thing left for me was another trip to the men’s room, coffee, and the hope that Antigone would enjoy my company as well as her father had.