aglasshouse I really gotta replace that thing. Every single day the beaten doors fly open ajar I hear the damned ringing of that bell on the door-sounding after awhile like a minature Notre Dame was being kept in my bar. The man who to cause today's disturbance walked in close to closing hours and took a heavy seat on one of my moth-eaten seats positioned right in front of me. He was a hairy, huge man to say the least, and wore a uniform showing he worked at the lumber mill only a few miles down the road. Unsurprising seeing the way he strong-armed his way into the bar, setting Lucifer's jingling keys a-ringing like mad as he unintentionally made the door tremble on it's hinges. After exhaling deeply with a breath that created a cloud in the cold air of the room, he sat there in silence for a minute or two. When he did speak it was with a surprisingly gentle air, like the whisper of a father talking kindly and curiously to his child.

"S'there a problem sir?"

Confused I looked up from a glass I was drying with one of my rags and directly at the stranger.

"Pardon?"

"Yer eye's been twitchin' like crazy since I walked in."

I reached up with one of my hands to touch my left eye, which I realized really was quivering like mad.

"Sorry," I muttered, "it's the claxon of my welcome bell that gets me- it's got nothing to do with you."

The man glanced at the door then back at me, one eyebrow raised.

"Really? I do enjoy that bell. Everytime someone walks in as I'm walking down the street I hear it- makes it almost feel like Christmas is always here."

"Doesn't really reflect the mood though does it?"

The stranger looked around at my dank and dark barroom, and I felt a pang of embarrassment as he saw the flickering overheads and dusty windows.

"Before I got here it was only you right?" He said. "Don't really expect much from a room with one man in it. Not like there's suppose t'be any upbeat atmosphere."

I smiled and looked back down to continue my cleanup but I was interrupted once more.

"You could spruce it up a bit y'know? Maybe make it a bit lighter in here."

I ignored this because I'd convinced myself long ago to not touch those window-frames in fear I'd get tetanus.

"At least change the music to somefin' good. This sounds like Gloomy Sunday or somefin'."

I obliged, turning around and lifting the needle from the record that was spinning and spilling out the 'depressing music'.

"What would you like? Seeing as you're the only other one here and I got no taste in upbeat music you might as well decide."

The man put both beefy hands upon the bar, lifting himself forward to inspect my shelf full of records I'd brought from home to keep here at the bar. His eyes squinted as he tried to read the titles of the tilted LP's.

"ZZ Top wouldn't be too bad- I do love that Le Ranche or whatever s'called...but then there's Zepp's IV which has the Levee song with the great Bonham drummin'..."

He leaned back to his seat and fell down with a puff from the chair's stuffing.

"I really like that raucous stuff like Dio or somefin'. Ever since I heard he died I been listenin' to all his stuff- Sabbath, Rainbow, Heaven and Hell, you name it."

Something came to mind suddenly and I pulled a certain LP from it's holding.

"So that means you must've heard of Elf, right?"

"Err, 'fraid not. S'it a band er a person?"

"It's a band Ronnie and some friends formed in '57 in Cortland. They went through a few name changes but in '72, along with their first album, they changed it to Elf."

"Sound's pretty interestin'. S'that what you got there then? An "Elf" album?"

"Yeah. This is their third and final album before they called it quits. It's called Trying To Burn The Sun and I've never actually heard it."

"Sounds cool with me. Put in on then, barman!"

I took the black disc out of the red and bright-orange packaging and slit it onto the player. Setting the needle on it, the first track began. It was an extremely upbeat tune, with Edwards' classic rock n' roll guitar style mixing well with Soule's electrifying piano playing. This was prevalent to the majority of the record, all backed by the conjoined chorus of Soule and the ever-magnificent Dio belting out every single word with awe-inspiring skill. A subtle Rolling Stones-esque influence was very present from the swinging beats laid down by Driscoll made for very typical 70's funky tunes with toe tapping moments.

We listened through the whole eight tracks until the moon came out from behind the clouds. As the ending epic 'Streetwalker' came to an end, the stranger let out a loud laugh.

"That was quite the ride! Wasn't anyfin' too complex but still loved it!"

I nodded, slipping the LP back into it's home and sliding it back into it's place among the collection.

"It really was a great piece of rock history. It had all the tropes you'd expect from cheese in 1975, but with the great instrument playing and the unmatched talent of Dio made it pretty fun!"

The stranger finished his mug and made his way towards the door.

"You should play that more often! Don' think many people know of it- thas' gotta change!"

I chuckled and waved as the door slowly shut behind in the wake of his exit. The record had been a great, fun experience for me, and as that bell rung for the last time that night, I'll admit it was much less painful as I thought it was before.