OUTWORLD: Dark Planet

OUTWORLD: Dark Planet Part 9

Doreen and her companions left the coffee shop to a street much quieter than when she had seen it last. Obviously, the Mucky Pup had arrived in the middle of some sort of rush hour. There was still somewhat of a swell, but at least there were gaps in the crowd. The music was still blaring but, coupled with less noise, it was bearable. And this was off-peak hours? Doreen shook her head. I definitely couldn't live here, she thought. Sedalia Station was impressive, but Doreen couldn't help but be reminded of the phrase "A nice place to visit, but you wouldn't want to live here".

"Hey!" A sudden call, conviviality and familiarity inherent in its tone, made Doreen look down the street to an Indian restaurant; outside it was a familiar face – and body, arms and legs.

Fleur chortled. "Hiya, Sally!"

Sally Racket grinned widely as she approached. "Well, look at you yuppie puppies," the spry German Shepherd snorted. "Taking in a morning coffee stop?"

"We did think you were going to join us," Rodolfo said.

"I don't drink that stuff," Sally said dismissively. "Anxiety disorder."

It occurred to Doreen that she shouldn't have, either, but she shrugged it off. "I'm defeated by how you could live here," she said, sweeping a paw over the street.

Sally smiled, waggling her ears. "Looking back on it, I can't believe I did. But when you're a puppy, you don't really object; you just get on with it."

"Did you live around here?" Rodolfo asked, eyeing his surroundings as if expecting something to attack him.

Sally jerked a thumb somewhere in the direction of the area beyond the shopping arcade. "Habitation blocks a mile or so back, the Summer Living Apartments."

"Sounds nice," Doreen said, as much out of courtesy as opinion.

"But I get the feeling you lot don't really want to see that," Sally said. "So let's go to a real party joint." She set off that wide grin once more and chopped a hand towards the end of the street. "Follow me."

Sally Racket led the assemblage a few streets to a medium-size building with a scarily bright sign advertising it as Jenny's Tail-End Lounge. "Come to think of it, now I remember what kept me here," the pilot muttered.

"Nice," Rodolfo enthused. "Could use a drink. And I mean a real drink."

Hachi laughed, taking in the place. "Now we're talking."

Doreen studied the info-boards attached to the side of the building; attractions such as 'COMMERCIAL PILOTS GET ONE DRINK ON US!' and 'IN TONIGHT – FOR ONE NIGHT ONLY... THE VANDER BROTHERS!'

"The Vander Brothers?" Fleur enquired. "That's a band I've never heard of."

"Oh, they're not a band," Sally laughed.

Doreen snorted to herself. Well, and why not? She'd earned a bit of R 'n' R.

Doreen had expected a pulsating, vibrant nightclub filled with hooting patrons and wait staff whose attire could fairly be described as 'edgy'.

She didn't get that.

Instead, she got a deafening, eye-assaulting nightclub packed to the very rafters with hooting patrons whose vocabulary seemed to consist solely of bawdy synonyms for select elements of anatomy, and wait staff whose attire was, in most cases, seemingly non-existent. "I think this is where most of the people went," she bawled.

"Hey, look!" Rodolfo cried, pointing through the mess towards what Doreen assumed to be a stage. The raised area, highlighted by spotlights, was currently host to a triplet of three rodent beings; Doreen thought they were Mice until their long, serpentine tails uncoiled from around their waists.