A new night came.
Opened for business once again.
My night staff one by one arrived and came in.
An exchange of Hellos and Good evenings.
"Hello, hello, thank you, thank you, thanks for coming in."
I like to thank them for showing up on time and performing the duties for which I pay them.
While I sat reviewing the books, they each went about preparing for our customers.
My lady friend came down.
And as she headed for the exit she gave me a not so kind look.
Understandable.
I've been having her do things she'd prefer not to.
She first came through my door, shining with confidence, résumé in hand, for an exotic dancing position.
Lately, behind closed doors, she's been assuming other positions.
I love bringing a haughty spirit low through exacting conditioning.
My blonde friend wants something from me and I'm gonna make sure she earns it.
Hence the dirty look, as she made her way to the exit.
My aide looked at her then looked at me and looked away shamefully.
She lives with me and thus is privy to my privacy.
I'm sure she hears and listens to every sound and every scream.
While she exited, the usual line of customers formed again.
The guards at the door kept order as the crowd waited to get in.
And when my staff were prepared I shouted to the guards to let them in.
And like a broken dam the crowds flooded in.
The music played, the patrons danced and my staff poured the drinks.
Everyone having a good time until.
Until the Neo-Nazi biker boys appeared.
My staff thought them merely bikers.
Until their jackets came off and the tattoos revealed their hatred.
I don't think they knew it was my bar they stepped into.
I had finished the books and had retreated into that favorite dark corner of mine.
With cigar in mouth, a bottle of vodka and a bottle of wine.
They captured the attention of all.
They pushed patrons aside and made their way to sit at the bar.
My bartenders refused to serve them.
They didn't like that at all.
They got upset and attempted to go behind the bar
to get the drinks themselves.
"You guys are about to have a bad night,'' shouted a voice in the crowd.
They responded what are you gonna do about it!
They poured their own drinks.
Shouted all manner of insults and slurs at the patrons.
Laughed amongst themselves and thought it was a good thing.
Suddenly, out of the darkness, a voice said "Jen, a bottle of Dom.''
The bar grew silent, as many of the patrons knew what was to come.
The pseudo nazis appeared surprised at the soundless air going around.
"No!" I said. "Stay there, I'll come."
Puffs of smoke trailed me,
as I made my way to the bottle ahead of me.
Another voice said who the fuck are you, "slur"?!!!
"I am the owner of this establishment which you have this night dishonored."
"Apologize and leave."
One of them stated like hell fuck me.
I told the patrons the bar's closed, please leave.
The guards locked the doors.
"Now you can't leave."
Weapons were pointed at me.
I held a hand which held a gun that dared at me.
"Pull the trigger, please."
And so it squeezed.
"Click."
"Click."
"Click."
"Your turn."
"Click, Click."
Clicks all around."
A pleasurable thing, to behold silent sound.
