Anodyne isn't your typical pool hall.
Go there in the day, and it's easier to notice the intricate handmade tables created by owner George Roman. The tops of the bars and tables became a canvas for the artist.
Classic treasures and toys are stuck inside the tables. Layers of clear epoxy make it look like the toys are floating just below the surface.
Roman builds the tables with the help of his 13-year-old son, Laz. Each table has a different theme.
There's the Clint Eastwood table with pictures of the famous actor and miniature Wild West toys.
There's the Venus Diablo table dedicated to the Albuquerque alternative rock band. Valium pills, a condom and a pinch of marijuana are submerged in the layers of epoxy.
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There's the Star Wars table where one of the figurines permanently pops out of the mold. There's a table with a watch that ticked for some time after being placed inside the mold and a dollar bill that has "Newt Gingrich is the only dope worth shooting," scribbled on it.
Born and raised in the South Valley, Roman used to own a silversmith shop called Lazarus Silver.
When Anodyne opened 10 years ago, he filled the bartop with pennies, bullets and other personal oddities from people who were around 10 years ago.
"Everyone loved it," Roman said.
Since then, the father-son team has perfected the craft.
The most talked-about is the Homies table. Filled with series one through five of the little plastic thugs and an elastic band from a pair of Joe Boxers, the table is the latest addition.
Laz came up with the layout of the table, Roman said.
"He's a pretty intelligent 13-year-old," he said. "He's 13 going on 25."
One woman offered to pay Roman $800 for a table.
"It was quite a compliment, but we don't do it for money," he said. "We do it for the bar."
Roman said after the first few tables received so much praise, it made him uncomfortable.
"We put a little pressure on ourselves because everybody really loved them," he said.
And epoxy isn't easy to work with.
"It's so unforgiving," Roman said "If it's the wrong temperature, you're screwed."
Air bubbles will pop up, making for an uneven surface.
Then there's the fly that flew into an unfinished table. It's stuck there still.
"You can't just carve it out and pretend like it didn't happen," Laz said.
For the most part, customers value the tables.
"They usually give me some respect for a year or two," he said.
Then they start carving into the wood or scraping away at the layers. There are deep grooves in the Venus Diablo table where someone came awfully close to the marijuana leaves.
"I don't know what they thought would happen if they got to it," he said. "They would probably get really high if they smoked it."
Roman said though some people put decent carvings into his tables, he still isn't sure why they would touch his art.
"It hurts me every time I see a carving," he said.
Eventually, he and Laz plan to create more tables.
But the tables that remain have become part of the past.
"It's history," he said. "They're part of the bar."
