Drown the Night

NINE

You have to go your own way,
No matter the cost.
If you don't believe in yourself,

You're already lost.

It might seem outrageous
And it might seem too hard,
But if you don't really want to,
Don't bother to start.

It will all come down
To one simple choice,

To live in the shadows
Or to use your full voice.

The difference it makes,
Is not instantly seen
And the fruits of your efforts,
Won't grow in one stream.

It will take you some time,
A lot actually,

But with patience and faith,
You'll thrive naturally.

#189

As of the moment sister Margaret made another visit to the youngsters in the backstage tent, it was clear that they were too close to being straight out wasted, then to give her the chance of proper denial. Although Mike's retarded moral reflex had stopped him from spicing up their orange juice after the second glass, he knew, that their upcoming performance would at least become an interesting one. Well aware that it was already too late for him to make up for his unethical actions, Mike decided to resort to watching sister Margaret tow their fosterlings out of the tent, while trying not to draw any attention towards himself in the process. He was about to follow them in order to see where his questionable sense of humour would lead, but then, Dom entered the backstage area and interfered with his plans. Dom called both Aaron and Mike straight up to him. He looked like he had finally reached the end of his line and the apparent stress he was in, was way too epidemic to not instantly infect the people around him.

"Mike, you need to go search for Damien and apologise to him from the bottom of your fucking heart. I've just received word about the remaining two jury members and they're as fucking useful to us, as the tits of a fucking nun. They're going to fuck us over, just like the rest of them. If we want to have any chance of getting anywhere in this contest, we must work him as hard as we can! I mean, you must."

Mike's body was already physically struggling with Dom's words, before his mind could even decipher their entire meaning.

"How the fuck am I supposed to fucking do this?"

"Get him some strippers, some coke, give him a blow job. I don't fucking care anymore."

"You're kidding me, right?"

"Or I could just beat him up!"

Mike and Dom turned towards Aaron, who was casually linking in to the conversation.

"He's fucking mafia!"

"Is he? Really?"

Aaron rubbed his nose, trying to process this myth and continued.

"I just see a fucking spoilt brat, who needs to be told a lesson. He's not even posing the hint of a threat to me!"

"You don't know those French fuckers, believe me!"

Mike walked around in circles. He took a detour to the table with the beverages and opened another bottle of vodka. Dom wasn't pleased with what he saw, but it was a fine line between keeping Mike in check and pissing him off. Dom watched him mix up his cocktail with more parts of vodka then orange juice. And then there it was, this mischievous smile upon his lips, that would only just mean one thing. Even more trouble.

"Maybe, ... I've got an idea."

Dom's and Aaron's enervated faces were watching Mike devilishly stirring his vodka-O with his pinkie finger.