Ergo, the Ogre

Welcome to the daily Three Things Challenge.
Use your imagination and creativity using one, two or all three words that may or may not be related. There are no restrictions regarding length, style, or genre, though please keep it family friendly.

Tag your responses with 3TC, #threethingschallenge or TTC, and you can add Di’s logo if you wish.

Looking forward to reading your responses.

Your three words today are:
MAR
BAR
WAR

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It was raining like hell.

Anita sloshed through four inches of standing water wearing her red rain boots and yellow slicker.

Only two more blocks. I got this. That Irish car bomb sure is gonna taste good. Anita smiled her almost-toothless smile. There were still three left: two front teeth and a molar. Gingivitis.

Anita climbed up the six or seven steps to Pinky’s Bar. This place had been a family tradition for as long as she could remember. Her mother came here, her grandmother; she wasn’t sure about her great-grandmother. There was nobody left to ask.

She opened the door and smelt the familiar dense smoky air infused with Pine-Sol. She took her boots off and left them by the door and hung her slicker on a nail next to someone’s jean jacket that someone had left here months ago. There were only two or three customers, and the bartender, Fritzy, made four. She didn’t recognize them.

I hope some regulars show up.

Anita trundled up to her regular stool in mismatched socks and took a seat. Once she was settled, she looked up and caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror on the back bar. Her hair was plastered to her head, straight, wet, and stringy. Aside from a smear of lipstick, her makeup had been washed off by the rain. “Holy cow crap!” she feigned shock. “My beauty is marred!”

Fritzy started laughing and the other customers joined in once they saw it was okay to laugh.

“What’ll ya have ‘Nita?”

“An Irish car bomb, please Fritzy,” she replied while dabbing her face with a bar napkin.

“Comin’ up!”

“So!” Anita began, “The Viet Nam war is finally over! Walter Cronkite told me so on the news today.”

The bar was quiet.

Fritzy set Anita’s drink in front of her. “That was fifty years ago, ‘Nita.”

She stared at him blankly, then continued. “Our boys will be coming home soon.”