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Last Call
2003-10-15, 10:51 a.m.

There is a kind of rowdy desperation at closing time. The lights come on and heads jerk to attention, eyes squint, pupils tighten, laughter turns shrill. The cigarette smoke that had filled the room as an expanse of fog clocking everyone and everything goes crazed and belligerent. IT breaks into small cyclones that stir the hair on the back of the neck before dissolving into disillusionment and jaundice.

Everyone is a freak in those last minutes. The bloom of youth and sex turns garish as a whore in clowns� paint, mascara runs, lipstick smudges, beer stains stand out on madras and t-shirt alike. Everyone came looking for fun that was not to be had. The few that came looking for love or a little of the old in and out shake themselves as if waking from a lucid dream of piranhas feeding on them. They check their flesh to make sure that it is still in tact and then hastily exchange numbers and hugs- no eye contact is given.

The manager gets on the microphone, same tired old line. �You don�t have to go home but you can�t stay here.� We need the night to rewind, be fresh with possibilities. That not forth coming plans are hastily hatched to extend the banality of fun just an hour or two longer�.

finally fully back :)

-Adipose

*Maybe, I spend too much time in bars?*


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