Sappunk
Thomas surveyed the bar with distaste. It was a punk bar, a refuge for rebelious kids to celebrate their utter rejection of conformity by conforming to the nonconformist expectations of their peers. Still, he was thirsty. He went inside.
The interior of the bar was, if possible, even more revolting than the exterior. Kids with glowsticks slow-dancing to elevator music under the glittering rainbow shards of a disco-ball. A haze of burnt coffee and spearmint chewing-gum. Thomas ran a hand along the polished styrofoam counter.
"Wacanigecha?" asked the (waitress? barmaid? - her hair was pink) around a wad of bubblegum. She had pushed herself through a shiny turquoise tube-top. A name-tag shaped like a sea-otter devouring the name "Chique" was tatooed somewhere in the vicinity of her left colarbone.
Thomas looked her straight in the eye.
"Water."
"Oooh." Chique stared at him. "Let me check our stock." She ripped up a long section of the bar and dove down inside, her torso disappearing into dry-ice vapor as she rumaged. A second later she emerged.
"Ah! Hereyago!"
It was a big bottle, clean and clear, with a blinking red "PLASTIPURE" label. Thomas ran his tongue around his dry mouth at the sight of its condensing sides. He slapped down a seventeen-dollar bill and a few coins, then twisted the cap off and drank.
Chique watched him, eyes getting bigger and bigger.
"Wow!" she said. "What's your name?"
"Thomas," said Thomas, dribbling around the bottle's plastic lip.
"Hey!" said a forcefull new voice. "What do you think you're doing, con?"
"Having a drink, friend. What's it to you?"
"Hey, now, be nice, Josh! This is Josh," she explained. "He's my boyfriend. Josh, this is Thomas." Her voice lowered to a whisper. "He drinks *water!*"
Josh's face suffused with yellow. "You . . . you . . . I'm gonna . . ."
He swung at Thomas, a straight punch right at the gut. Thomas snatched up a handy pool cue and brushed Josh's punch away just in the Nick of time. Chique's eyes got wider and wider as Thomas used the two-ounce shaft of wood to beat the crap out of her boyfriend for no reason at all.
"That's amazing," she goggled! "It's like some kind of Asian thing!"
"It's Tae Kune Chi!" Thomas announced proudly. "It's a Filippino style! I invented it myself!"
"Yay!" Chique enthused. "I'm Selene! Will you go out wiht me?"
* * *
The interior of the bar was, if possible, even more revolting than the exterior. Kids with glowsticks slow-dancing to elevator music under the glittering rainbow shards of a disco-ball. A haze of burnt coffee and spearmint chewing-gum. Thomas ran a hand along the polished styrofoam counter.
"Wacanigecha?" asked the (waitress? barmaid? - her hair was pink) around a wad of bubblegum. She had pushed herself through a shiny turquoise tube-top. A name-tag shaped like a sea-otter devouring the name "Chique" was tatooed somewhere in the vicinity of her left colarbone.
Thomas looked her straight in the eye.
"Water."
"Oooh." Chique stared at him. "Let me check our stock." She ripped up a long section of the bar and dove down inside, her torso disappearing into dry-ice vapor as she rumaged. A second later she emerged.
"Ah! Hereyago!"
It was a big bottle, clean and clear, with a blinking red "PLASTIPURE" label. Thomas ran his tongue around his dry mouth at the sight of its condensing sides. He slapped down a seventeen-dollar bill and a few coins, then twisted the cap off and drank.
Chique watched him, eyes getting bigger and bigger.
"Wow!" she said. "What's your name?"
"Thomas," said Thomas, dribbling around the bottle's plastic lip.
"Hey!" said a forcefull new voice. "What do you think you're doing, con?"
"Having a drink, friend. What's it to you?"
"Hey, now, be nice, Josh! This is Josh," she explained. "He's my boyfriend. Josh, this is Thomas." Her voice lowered to a whisper. "He drinks *water!*"
Josh's face suffused with yellow. "You . . . you . . . I'm gonna . . ."
He swung at Thomas, a straight punch right at the gut. Thomas snatched up a handy pool cue and brushed Josh's punch away just in the Nick of time. Chique's eyes got wider and wider as Thomas used the two-ounce shaft of wood to beat the crap out of her boyfriend for no reason at all.
"That's amazing," she goggled! "It's like some kind of Asian thing!"
"It's Tae Kune Chi!" Thomas announced proudly. "It's a Filippino style! I invented it myself!"
"Yay!" Chique enthused. "I'm Selene! Will you go out wiht me?"
* * *
posted by Paganini at 10:51 PM
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