[font=georgia]{Two powers maximum, por favor, or else everyone suddenly wants to be the strongest/coolest and things get dicey. :) Also, an average post length of a paragraph (3 sentences and up); one-liners are fine on occasion, but it's hard to cook up a decent retort to a constant stream of one-liners. A brief bio indicating name, age, gender, and appearance would be much appreciated!}
The chairs were oblong wedges of cracked black leather, and their legs were malformed and caked with rust. The stools were in even worse shape: battered and bruised from countless drunken scuffles over spilt ale, weathered down by the squeezing pressure of large rear ends. They were like elderly senior citizens, with hunched backs, sagging skin, and fatigued eyes; and they sat sullenly in front of the bar, waiting for the inevitable advance of the porky, apple-cheeked tourist entering through the door.
There was a dusty vase from the dollar store squatting in a dark corner, choked with plastic flowers, and with the lights on, the varnish on the mahogany panels in the wall had a sickly, grayish pallor. Wreaths of dead mistletoe and small daisy chains withered on the windowsill. Constantly, the sound of clinking glass and hurried steps emanated from the kitchen, where the swathes of cigarette smoke and evaporated beer hung particularly thick.
A young woman of about thirty was manning the register. She had a petite though buxom figure, a pretty oval face, and eyes the color of rubies. Her long flaxen hair was swept up in a high ponytail, and her hands were resting idly on the counter.