Skyline

"That's the thing about this city..."

"Whad ya mean stranger?"

Cyde looked at his bartender in the deep crevasse of his mug. The bartender had a relatively mean and chiseled look, but Clyde was just too drunk to care. His liquid bravery has built up enough that even talking to the kingpin would be like talking to his spoiling mother.

"Ain't nobody got any damn respect around here!" Clyde said with a scoff half slurring and flailing his arms.

"Well that may be, but I ain't eva heard a problem a good bourbon n smoke didn't solve."

These two men were in an ol' jazzy dive called the Green Mole smack dab downtown in Dark Rock City east on Bourbon Bank Rd. Its a place that always felt like it was one stop away but you never get off to go to. You hear about the robberies, you see the drugs, you feel the gangs, but you really don't know it until you smell it.

Once you're on Bourbon Bank, the stench just feels heavy. Like you're stuck in a garbage bag zipped shut with the clinging filth of sweaty greed and rusty blood just twinging your soul. It wouldn't be uncommon for the police to not show up when needed. They were tired, beaten, and often times murdered for interference so most just say 'fuck it' and take the meager bribe from the kingpin. Same goes for ambulances, fire trucks, and pretty much any symbol of order. The only orders taken in Dark Rock are for the glasses of bourbon and to look left when the crime cesspool scurries on the right.

"Say what is your name again?" Clyde mumbled after the clink from his glass of bourbon smacked on the bar top.

The bartender slumped over peering into Clyde's crossed eyes.

"I ain't recall giving it pal."

In one fell swoop Clyde jumped up and took a wild left hook swing at the bartender. After some quick footwork the bartender easily dodged his attackers swing, hopped over the bar, and managed to firmly grasp the man while planting his face on the bar top.

In a massive underestimation Clyde realized his fate when the bartender stood a good 10 inches over himself and probably weighed what seemed 10 times more than that. Most bars in Dark Rock have very sunk in floors behind the bar top in case there is the occasional drive by shooting. It's also a good way to store guns, ammo, or you name it, out of site. So what would seem to be a normal sized fellow actually turned out to be a hulking gargantuan due to this misperception.

Clyde pitifully cried "Hey hey hey oww owww owwwww ya gonna break my fuckin arm man ahh ahhhhhh!!"

The hustling and busting bar that had the jazzy tunes went dead silent. The crashing, the bashing, the laughing, THE SPINNING, THE WINNING, THE GROOVING screeched like the subway under Dark Rock at 3 am. It was gone and the dim, green-lit seedy lights showed the whites of everyone's eyes locked with two men as if they were climaxing at the opera, no one wanted to miss this.

The bartender replies calmly to the owner who stormed out of his office after hearing the commotion and screams of what seemed to be a female in distress.

"Go back to the books Georgie we got ourselves a wize guy over hee."

The short, tubby owner huffed and puffed turning bright red like a lobster with an attitude problem. His sweaty white collared shirt was stained yellow under the pits and his chin resembled that of a frog more than a man. He even would let out an occasional croak according to the rumors from the staff.

"Calm down Georgie sheezzz I'll teach this guy a lesson and we can get back to making YOU some fuckin money alright. It don't look good to the boss if we just roll over every time some pansy wants to cause a scene."

Clyde's head is literally smearing the paint thinner on the wooden bar top.

"mmmfmffmfffmfff!!!!??!?!"

"Alright but you two go out back I got a fuckin business I'm running here, this ain't no damn cock fighting racket!" He spun around and went back to his office.

The bartender lightens up a little bit to make Clyde beg for his life since the 'big' man basically gave him the green light to take him out back and rearrange his face.

"Look man I'm sorry I just keep gettin the short end of the stick. This fuckin town just keeps spittin on me! I'll do a job they said. It'll get me in the door they said. I'll make good money they said AND WHAT DO I GET?!?! FUCKIN NUTTIN! I separated an old bag from her damn diamonds like I was told AND I GOT NUTTIN..."

Tears run down Clyde's face, no longer concerned about the humiliation. His voice is hoarse like a broken man with an even more broken soul.

The bartender clamps tighter as the crowd oohs and a lady shouts "OH MY GOD!!!!"

"Alright alrigghhtttttt!" Clyde swats the bartender's leg in submission.

The bartender pitifully releases his grip and shoves Clyde to his knees.

"Look pal I ain't eva wanna see you around hee again ya understand."

Clyde nods and slowly gets up. He shamefully stumbles to the door and then stops, like he's huddled around something. The bashing and crashing resumes, the piano begins to pick up, and sweet grooving at the Green Mole begins again.

"fuck me huh..."

He spins around with a molatov cocktail in his left hand and a lighter in his right.

"I THINK IT'S ABOUT TIME I FUCKED YOU!!!!"

Clyde lights the cocktail and clumsily throws it at the bartender and misses by hitting the young woman sitting about three stools down from center lighting her ablaze.

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!"

The grooving and moving turned into the burning and churning then into the screaming and fleeing. There were gunshots BANG BANG, bloody SHRIEKS, sirens ZOOMING while all panning out to the skyline of Dark Rock City where everything seems to dance and shake.