Post by codemana on Sept 23, 2015 17:18:44 GMT -5
The Booby Hatch was once a humdinger of a gentleman’s club, offering all manner of debauchery so long as the recipient was willing to pay the according price. Decades of disrepair and losing half of it’s space to an all night Doughnut shop has reduced it to one of a few dozen off the strip nothing-below-the-waste titty bars. Here is where we find our reluctant hero sitting at the far end of pervert’s row, sipping on a cream soda. A pair of Ukrainian twins are finishing up their three song set, much to the enjoyment of the scattered crusty drunks near the stage. Reno looks passively from down the way. He’s waiting for a particular performer. His favorite since he was a young boy.
The twins finish grinding to the closing bar of Skid Row’s “I Remember You” and begin gathering up the tossed singles of their admirers. They both blow a couple of kisses and giggle at the vulgar jokes and cat calls shot in their direction. As they leave the stage the DJ warms up his next cut and leans into the microphone.
DJ: All right fellas let’s keep this going for your next performer. A veteran of the Hatch stage returning from her travels in the far east, Atlantic City. Hailing from the mean streets of no place like home, please give a warm welcome to Foxy Mound.
The regulars all vacate the front row leaving the newbies to wonder what’s in store for them. Reno sits up straight and gives a raucous thunder of claps. From the curtain emerges a very tall, very muscular, very dolled up african american woman wearing (very little) orange spandex and a clearly fake afro. She begins to get funky to Parliament’s “Aqua Boogie” which at first gets the remaining front row audience excited. That is until the Ms. Mound strikes a pose that reveals she’s packing more than charisma underneath her skin tight suit. The rest of the crowd slowly disperses. Foxy is undeterred by their absence and continues to break it down. Her excitement and enthusiasm peaks when she turns her attention to the far side of the stage and spots Mustang. The dance becomes a one on one show as she lays it on thick for her number one fan. Reno throws a wad of money out and, resembling a toad caught in a power line, begins dancing himself. The song ends and Foxy returns behind the curtain. Reno finishes his soda and leaves a decent tip for the waitress. He heads for what used to be an emergency exit and lets himself out to the alley at the back of the club.
Outside he finds Foxy enjoying a cigarette next to a graffiti covered dumpster. Her face nearly turns up again in excitement but she quickly reigns it in and feigns perturbation.
Foxy: Sugar what the hell took you so long to come visit me?
Reno looks bashful as a schoolboy as he steps to her side of the dumpster.
Reno: Just been laying low mostly. Getting ready for a big fight.
Foxy looks a bit concerned at Reno’s surprisingly downtrodden delivery, then legitimately disturbed by what’s happened to his hands. She turns both over to find the knuckles carrying very little skin on them and bruises up and down each finger.
Foxy: Boy! What did i tell you about trying to prove things with your fists?
Reno: Don’t do it.
Foxy: And who have you been laying to waste this time?
Reno: Bouncer, pirate over at Treasure Island, few parking meters. Myself mostly.
Foxy: Aw, now honey, what’s got you so fired up about this fight that you went back to taking on inanimate objects?
Reno: I embarrassed myself again. Tried to land a pre-emptive verbal strike and it just blew up in my face.
Foxy: Well that’s just one setback hon. Doesn’t mean you can’t get back on the horse and show them other boys what for.
Reno: I guess so. But what if i lose? These guys aren’t the yokels i’m used to hacking it out with.
Foxy: Then you just keep on coming. Son if you’ve got anything going for you. Besides that beautiful smile.
Reno grins to reveal an imperfect row of grey to brownish teeth.
Foxy: It’s your natural grit. Did you just fold up shop when the cops shut down your amyl nitrate stand?
Reno: No ma’am.
Foxy: Did you give up after the kung fu school said you couldn’t learn snake style with pigeon toes?
Reno: Nope. Just developed my own style. Crouching sky rat.
Foxy: And who’s the only man that won the southwest death match finals three years running?
Reno: Me goddamnit! Even when Sick Dick Magurski tried throwing me off that U-Haul.
Foxy: There you go sugar. You ain’t lost your steel or your wits. Just forgot the road you traveled to get here. It’s more than just a journey. It’s all the preparation you needed to seize the day you’re looking forward to.
Reno: Wow. That’s beautiful Fox. Just what i needed to hear. I can’t thank you enough.
Foxy: Young man seeing your sweet face is all the thanks i needed. Gets lonely out here sometimes.
Reno: Don’t i know it. Now if you’ll excuse me i’ve got some more fisticuff work to get to. This time on a few more formidable opponents.
Foxy: On your way then. But don’t be a stranger now.
Reno: I’ll be back soon enough. Hopefully with some gold around my waist next time.
They join in a brief hug and go their separate ways. Foxy puts out her smoke and heads back into the club. Reno begins ambling down the alleyway. As he nears the edge of the next street he begins to dance and throw a few shadow punches. Reaching the crosswalk he throws his hands above his head.
Reno: I’m Reno Mustang! And i’m feeling ten feet tall!
The twins finish grinding to the closing bar of Skid Row’s “I Remember You” and begin gathering up the tossed singles of their admirers. They both blow a couple of kisses and giggle at the vulgar jokes and cat calls shot in their direction. As they leave the stage the DJ warms up his next cut and leans into the microphone.
DJ: All right fellas let’s keep this going for your next performer. A veteran of the Hatch stage returning from her travels in the far east, Atlantic City. Hailing from the mean streets of no place like home, please give a warm welcome to Foxy Mound.
The regulars all vacate the front row leaving the newbies to wonder what’s in store for them. Reno sits up straight and gives a raucous thunder of claps. From the curtain emerges a very tall, very muscular, very dolled up african american woman wearing (very little) orange spandex and a clearly fake afro. She begins to get funky to Parliament’s “Aqua Boogie” which at first gets the remaining front row audience excited. That is until the Ms. Mound strikes a pose that reveals she’s packing more than charisma underneath her skin tight suit. The rest of the crowd slowly disperses. Foxy is undeterred by their absence and continues to break it down. Her excitement and enthusiasm peaks when she turns her attention to the far side of the stage and spots Mustang. The dance becomes a one on one show as she lays it on thick for her number one fan. Reno throws a wad of money out and, resembling a toad caught in a power line, begins dancing himself. The song ends and Foxy returns behind the curtain. Reno finishes his soda and leaves a decent tip for the waitress. He heads for what used to be an emergency exit and lets himself out to the alley at the back of the club.
Outside he finds Foxy enjoying a cigarette next to a graffiti covered dumpster. Her face nearly turns up again in excitement but she quickly reigns it in and feigns perturbation.
Foxy: Sugar what the hell took you so long to come visit me?
Reno looks bashful as a schoolboy as he steps to her side of the dumpster.
Reno: Just been laying low mostly. Getting ready for a big fight.
Foxy looks a bit concerned at Reno’s surprisingly downtrodden delivery, then legitimately disturbed by what’s happened to his hands. She turns both over to find the knuckles carrying very little skin on them and bruises up and down each finger.
Foxy: Boy! What did i tell you about trying to prove things with your fists?
Reno: Don’t do it.
Foxy: And who have you been laying to waste this time?
Reno: Bouncer, pirate over at Treasure Island, few parking meters. Myself mostly.
Foxy: Aw, now honey, what’s got you so fired up about this fight that you went back to taking on inanimate objects?
Reno: I embarrassed myself again. Tried to land a pre-emptive verbal strike and it just blew up in my face.
Foxy: Well that’s just one setback hon. Doesn’t mean you can’t get back on the horse and show them other boys what for.
Reno: I guess so. But what if i lose? These guys aren’t the yokels i’m used to hacking it out with.
Foxy: Then you just keep on coming. Son if you’ve got anything going for you. Besides that beautiful smile.
Reno grins to reveal an imperfect row of grey to brownish teeth.
Foxy: It’s your natural grit. Did you just fold up shop when the cops shut down your amyl nitrate stand?
Reno: No ma’am.
Foxy: Did you give up after the kung fu school said you couldn’t learn snake style with pigeon toes?
Reno: Nope. Just developed my own style. Crouching sky rat.
Foxy: And who’s the only man that won the southwest death match finals three years running?
Reno: Me goddamnit! Even when Sick Dick Magurski tried throwing me off that U-Haul.
Foxy: There you go sugar. You ain’t lost your steel or your wits. Just forgot the road you traveled to get here. It’s more than just a journey. It’s all the preparation you needed to seize the day you’re looking forward to.
Reno: Wow. That’s beautiful Fox. Just what i needed to hear. I can’t thank you enough.
Foxy: Young man seeing your sweet face is all the thanks i needed. Gets lonely out here sometimes.
Reno: Don’t i know it. Now if you’ll excuse me i’ve got some more fisticuff work to get to. This time on a few more formidable opponents.
Foxy: On your way then. But don’t be a stranger now.
Reno: I’ll be back soon enough. Hopefully with some gold around my waist next time.
They join in a brief hug and go their separate ways. Foxy puts out her smoke and heads back into the club. Reno begins ambling down the alleyway. As he nears the edge of the next street he begins to dance and throw a few shadow punches. Reaching the crosswalk he throws his hands above his head.
Reno: I’m Reno Mustang! And i’m feeling ten feet tall!