Saving Primary Sanders | A Sander Sides Book

Epilogue - WinDicAtion

Let's wrap this up, folks!

Three Months Later...

Where are you?

I mean in this story you are reading, not where you are reading this story. If you are confused, you are now in the story. Surprised? Yes? No? Good.

The city crowds down on you from all sides with its roaring smog and choking noise and marching faces and high and low buildings slanting over your spot on the pavement. Your watch on your wrist tells you that it is a quarter to eight in the late evening, and the slight drizzle of rain on your cheek reminds you to hurry and find shelter. You feet pound around shimmering puddles of brown water and yellow lamplight. You end up at an inter-section. To your left, the road branches off into the checkerboard of tempting red lights in the notorious district named after that colour, and to your right is the steady grinding of the car wheels and cogwheels of the commercial district of the city. Above your head swings a board, with a strawberry outlined it in red neon, like a captured diamond in the rough. It is The Strawberry Shortcake Drag Bar. You check the leaflet in your hands, and decide that you are at the right place after all. You join the short line of people queuing up to the door. It surprises you that it is mostly teenage girls and guys of a theatrical bent, not the patrons you would generally expect at a establishment of this nature. Large purple posters loudly proclaim the musical entertainment of the evening: Six the Musical.

You find yourself at the front of the queue in no time at all, and the friendly bouncer waves you over. You eyes drift instinctively to his left sleeve tucked neatly into his breast pocket.

He chuckles awkwardly at your curious expression. "Don't worry, I get that look a lot. I lost my arm in a big explosion. ID please."

As you hand over your ID, as you squint at his nametag pinned to his shirtfront: Archie.

"Oh!" you say. "Are you that Archie who saved Thomas Sanders at that Epic Fail of a Berry Awards?"

He hides a shy smile at being recognised. "Yup, that was me." He quickly picots the attention off him. "The rest of them are inside! You came to see them, didn't you?" He hands you your ID. "You are underage, but tonight's open for all." He motions you inside, pushing the door open with his foot. "Don't try sneaking in after this, got it?"

He grins at you before turning to the person behind you, and you slip in through the door before it can close.

You are glad to get out of the chill of the rain as the warm toasty musty atmosphere inside greets you at the door. Glasses clink and alcohol splash over at the bar, a decently sized crowd mills about the floor and the band tunes their instruments up on the stage. You breathe a sigh of relief at making it over on time and move towards the stage, ducking under precariously held glasses of goodness knows what. You make yourself against a wooden pillar that bears up the weight of the gallery that runs around the interior.

Suddenly the strobe lights dim and a hush wafts over the room.

The spotlight finds a lone figure on stage behind a microphone. "Good evening, lost souls of the night. Welcome to The Strawberry Shortcake, I am your Mistress of Ceremonies, Madame Trixie La Douche. How are we feeling tonight? I see a few tired faces. Feel like the world's squashing you under its heel? I know what will shake you up. Ready for some crazy beats that will get your blood pumping? Ha! Knew you were up for it! How many of you here have ever been in a relationship that ended badly? Got any salty exes? Of course you do, even been one. I know I have! Ready to get the vindication of saying I don't need your love? That's what our first segment of the tonight's show is all about. Presenting Six the Musical, performed by the Birds of Gay as the six wives of King Henry VII!"