just another night out
by Patrick Groove
It was a few hours before midnight. Outside the
night club James-Bond staggered on his own. The rest of the ocean front
streets were empty accept for myself and the taxi.
"Need a ride buddy?!", I yelled out the window.
James-Bond stopped for a moment staring blankly at his shoes. His tux was
unbuttoned, hanging loosely over his malfunctioning body. Then as suddenly as
he had stopped, he began staggering once again in the opposite direction. He
had nothing to say.
I sat and paused for a moment. It had been a slow night. Being Tuesday
everyone had to work the next day and had decided not to leave their homes.
That's was Casablankpace for you. Small town set on routine.
With a sigh I opened the front seat, lit a cigarette, looked into the night,
then headed towards the club. If I wasn't going to make any money I was going
to spend it.
Grl stood at the door, bored as usual. I could hear the piano plucking and
jittering inside. A slight haze spilled out the door, cheap cigar smells
followed.
"Hey Grl. See any action tonight?", I asked.
Grl looked at me with interest. "Not really Pat. I kicked a few people out for
some minor disturbance. Seems they thought Modstats was a vending machine."
It was a common mistake.
Chuckling softly I proceeded through the door. Dim lights, rich music, and
laughter greeted me. Slammy was at the piano, clinking out great hits like,
"Pr0n R0x0rz", and "I Love you. ASL Please?". He seemed to be enjoying
himself.
I walked over to an empty table, hanging shaded lamp overhead. While pulling
out another cigarette and bobbing my head to the music, Schabuda offered me a
drink. I ordered two twelve year old scotch's with the cute little umbrellas.
You know the ones I mean.
After the drinks has been poured and brought from the bar, a noticed Libris
Hanging out by the piano. With a quick look around the room he slipped an
envelope into the piano. Libris was the owner. He would have made it into a
strip club if he thought it would bring in the green backs.
"Play it again Slam", he said.
"Alright boss! I know you like it!", said Slammy with a big toothy grin. Then
with a shake of his head and a few flicks of the wrist the piano was worked.
"Libris, how's the biz?", I asked him as he passed my table.
"Groovy", he replied busy fixing his collar, then disappeared into the
roulette room. It was a private room reserved for the rich.
"Bets on 24!", was called out before the door closed. Network19 was working
the tables tonight.
An hour later I felt that I had enough scotch for the night. The room was
starting to blur before my eyes. "Probably a good time to go for a drive", I
thought and with some difficulty got up from the table and headed back
outside.
"Be careful on the roads tonight Pat.", said Grl. "You always overdo it don't
you?".
"Go hard or go home."
"Go home", she said.
[The moral of the story? Don't write short stories without some idea of what you're going to write. It just makes you look stupid.]