After my experience with my at home speakeasy, I decided to head out for the evening.
I walk across the town for a while and find myself at a club I used to know all too well. Nobody knew it was a club, you had to go round the back way. I was hardly dressed for dodging trash cans, but here I was. Sometimes you have to climb through some trash to find some treasure.
I stood in something squishy and dared look down, holding my head high I knocked on the door 3 times. It was slightly ajar which was unusual for this time of night. I had to stop myself from looking down at whatever I had stood in moments ago, and let myself in.
Not a soul in sight, I click clacked my way down the wooden corridor – well it was mainly a click, the clack was softened by the squishy substance I had stood in. What was that?
I felt that if I didn’t look down at my shoe then maybe I didn’t stand in something after all. That worked for a while until…. oh no, the smell.
By this point I had reached the main room, where was everyone? I had no choice but to take off my shoe in abandon and hope that no one would hear. Fat chance of that, this place was deserted.
With that, I flung off my shoe with a squeal and found myself hobbling around on one foot. Common sense would have discarded the other shoe, alas, common sense was not with me tonight. At least the smell had settled somewhat.
I spotted a maroon coloured tub chair in the corner. Should I sit? Or would that appear rude?
Better not, I think I will smoke instead. The heat from the flame tickles my nose, and it made me realise how cold it is here. I look around once more, can’t hear a thing.
Without a care I lean up against the cold damp pillar. I hear a tearing sound. Instant regret.
That’s my dress done for.
I look down at myself, missing a shoe, ripped dress, all alone.
Sigh. Not such a decadent pea after all.