"NO NEW TABS"
Sign in the Chukker, October 25th, 1971

When the stranger swung into this dark
butt-littered bar, draped his white
weird toga, or whatever, over a stool,
and ordered Miller's Malt, no one was
perturbed (it being late, and most of us dead
drunk). But when he said "No bread,"
a hush fell like a flatiron. "No new tabs,"
Mark said, and gestured. The stranger
scratched his beard, his blue eyes slow
and casual as swimming pools.
"Lookee here," said the stranger, "I don't know
how long it takes you necks to get the papers,
but I'm the son of God, and I could turn
this Miller into wine; but I'm inclined
to turn you and your buddies into Ovaltine.
What do you say? I'm kind of in a hurry."
One skinny arm reached out of Mark's white shirt,
shaking, and tore the sign down.
A row of white teeth chattered and chattered, and
said,
"Here at the Chukker,
if nothing else, we believe. More to the point,
you gotta make exceptions. What about another?"
Brushing the sticky halo from his hair,
he went to fetch it.

by Rette Maddox 

(the attached link has a TON OF CHUKKER STUFF on it but ya gotta scroll down about half way before it begins) http://robertoreg.blogspot.com/2008_06_15_archive.html