Who: Malachi (OTA) When: 7:00 - 9:00 pm 5/21/08 Where: City Bus, Station, and Strip Club Status: Complete Rating: PG-13. Language, drugs
He could really curse himself for not borrowing the car now. He hadn't planned on taking a bus ride across town. Not that he had issues with riding the bus, it was just an excercise in impatience, let alone having to go without his weekly fix. "Guess I gotta snag some cigs at the station." He thought, annoyed at the prospect. He was not enthused at having to pay $7 at one of the last cigarette vending machines in existence, for a pack that had probably been sitting there since James was thin, whenever that was. He knew it was rather early to be heading to the strip club, but by the time he got there, he figured the B-lineup would be at the point where they'd be willing to do just about anything to turn a buck before theyre shift ended. He chuckled to himself: "Heh... this should be fun. I love screwin with those 2nd string pole waxers...just as limber, and somethin to prove haha."
After about 45 minutes, he arrived at the station, and after about 5 commanding raps on the stingy machine, his surprisingly new pack of Marlboros begrudgingly dropped to the recieving slot. "Thank God. I was about to put my boot thru this machine if it took my money again." His connecting bus would leave soon, and would drop him only a few blocks from the club, in a slightly better neck of the woods than home. Flashing his bus ticket, the driver gave him a startled look, and waved him onto the bus. Rolling his mercury colored eyes in annoyance, Malachi gave a sneer, shook his head and found a seat. "Fuckin asshole, man...I can't help the way I look. Ya donut munchin, short bus reject!" Lighting a cigarette, he slouched back in his seat. "Damn my head hurts...aw shit, don't tell me this shit's happenin..not tonight..." He gave a quick shudder as his eyes went white. He had been through this before, but it didn't make it any easier. The bus seemed to swirl and move in slow motion, as if on some bad drug trip, and the voices came seemingly out of nowhere:
They just seemed to keep coming, no matter how hard he tried to block them out. And just as it felt like he was going to black out, the driver's sharp yell brought him back to consciousness: "HEY!! BUDDY!! There's no smoking on the bus! Do you hear me, freak?!" He gave a scowl, sat up and put his cigarette out, ignoring the 5 or 10 passengers who were now staring because of his latest episode. "What the hell is wrong with me? Why does this shit keep happening?!" And rubbing his temples, he prepared to get off the bus, as his stop as only a few minutes away.
Taking back to the streets, he walked for the 2 or 3 blocks it was to the club. It was dark enough to pass for night now, so he didn't feel so bad about getting there so early, despite it was entirely his plan to exploit the lesser dancers. Lighting another cigarette, he ducked slightly to allow his tall frame to enter the door without hitting his head. "$10 cover, bro." The large but disinterested bouncer announced. Without thought, he handed over the fee, and looked painfully at the ATM. He knew the $33 left in his pocket wouldn't be enough to get a decent buzz going, muchless prompt the pole riders to do anything worthwhile. "Damn...I hate those $5 fees here. That shit's killer... Ah well, I'm here now, might as well enjoy myself..." And pulling a few hundred dollars out, made his way to the bar. The well built bartender leaned over the counter, and aksed "What can I get'cha hun?" He grabbed a napkin, wrote out "SoCo, black" on it, and passed it to her. She gave a confused look and smiled, "What's wrong, cat got your tongue tonight?" "Haha...lady, you got no idea..." he laughed to himself, faking like his throat hurt. "Aw well let's get that medicine in ya then!" And taking the generous double shot she gave him, he nodded thankfully, and turned to survey the night's options...