It's a brisk and windy night. The rain is relentlessly falling from the dark sky, bombarding the roof of the saloon. The doors swing open, in walks a man dressed in an all black tracksuit. He walks back straight, with an undeterred determination, to the bar. He sits on the stool and looks up to the bar tender who is meticulously cleaning a tankard, inspecting and erasing every smudge. He looks over his pencil moustache with inspecting eyes "what you having, friend?"
In an iron Belfast accent he replies, "a final drink."
Bolton Wanderers face Bristol City tomorrow. It's 22nd versus 23rd. No matter the result, the Whites will still remain in the bottom three come Saturday evening as we currently sit four points behind Bristol in the place immediately above. We're already beginning to get left behind and we absolutely must win the game.
Only that imaginary fella in the sky knows what will happen if we don't.
However, we've been saying that for weeks now, months even. Before every game all of us have attested to how we must win the next game to finally get out season going. We've recently had three games in a week in which we needed at least, at the very least, four points from. We got two.
We haven't won a game since September 13th. If we fail to win tomorrow it'll end up being well over two months since we last won a game by the time we face Reading - which is highly unlikely to chance that.
We're in deep, serious, overwhelming shit and the tide has finally started to turn against Neil Lennon. The man who came to the club and earned instant admiration from every Whites fan, and is still liked by the vast majority.
But the fact of the matter is, whether it's his fault or not, we've been nothing short of the worst Bolton side I've ever seen this season - and something needs to be changed before it really is too late. Whether it be the results or the manager.
I hate that we've become this club probably more than anything else. We were once a side who had one of the longest serving managers in the league, and now we've descended into having a new manager every two years, and that length of time is ever shortening.
It feels like we've got our selves into a poisonous cycle, an evil self forefilling prophecy. We bring in a manager who makes an initial impact which is enough to steer us to safety but eventually, due to the suffocating cesspit that is this club, performances begin to wilt and the atmosphere around the club once again turns toxic.
It's awful and feels like we're swimming against the constant tide, and eventually we're just going to give up and let it drown us.
Will tomorrow be the start of that cycle once again? I really hope not, but I fear that if we fall to another defeat it may just be.
One last drink in the Last Chance Saloon for Mr Lennon, please good sir.