The stench of the city overcrowded my nostrils the minute i stepped into the main strip. I zipped up my jacket and filled its pockets with my bloodied hands, though I doubt red hands were a rare sight in this place. I observed the street in which I stood, thugs where the main attraction, matching jackets, torn jeans, a stench of piss, whiskey, sex, blood, heroine and steroids all compressed into a hybrid stench that could make a weaker mans internal organs bleed. They caught sight of me staring their way, I figured I’d play it safe this time and continued down the street.
I passed countless prostitutes, some tempting suductresses, some disease ridden animals, variety was not an issue in Gamorrahs Passing. As i continued i noticed the weaker kind, civilians trapping themselves in their second floor houses perched above the bars and brothels that decorated the strip, they were frightened to appear in teh streets at night, as i spent teh night exploring the city, I couldn’t help but side with them.
Finally after a while, the hunger decided to violently remind me of its evident need of nourishment, the quivering of my stomach finally lead me into a small bar, the bar was situated between two condemned buildings, completed with bricked up windows, a garden of glass shards, top floors of both eroding away brick by brick, the bar was small enough to avoid any falling debris from the surrounding buildings, the thought of why this bar was still up and running in a destopia that was the corner of the street leading away from teh main strip eventualy into a suburb.
I entered through the door marked “pis off” and sat at teh bar, the patrons that night consisted of a few drunken middle aged men, theirselves half thrown across teh bar, slurping down dried vegitable drinks to ease their sorrows, in the booths across the room sat a young girl eating by herself, she shouwed a very defensive stance teh way she sat, timidly with very little comfort around the men, they seemed to have ceased teasing her with drunken remarks about her body and possible sexual advances the minute they saw me join them at teh bar, i assume they mistook me for a common thug.
“whats ya poison son?” asked a grizzled bartender with a thick goatee and a matching moustache wet with larger. ” Food…any food?” i muttered, feeling the beastily growl echoing through the empty pit of my stomach. The bartender threw me some dried peanuts from below the ale rack, “that’ll sort ya for while, you ain’t from around here are ya?”
“what makes you say that”
“ya got that feel about ya” he said trying to sound wise and mystical, “ya look like what these poor saps probably did before this city went ta hell”
“interesting…can you tell me about this place?”
“whats ta tell?, s’a shithole, has been for years, used ta be a real stand-up place back in da 50s back when ma pap ran this place, fulla professionals, as in gangsters, at least those lot back da day knew how ta be proper criminals, had a purpose for it all, dese days its dese junkies running round pumped with all sorts’a shit murdering, raping, hell sometimes in that order, then theres dese…”
I seemed to have triggered quite the real storyteller, as i sat quietly, trying to look like i was still listening, i caught sight the girl at the booth in the corner of my eye, she woe boots and jeans, an over-sized navy green jacket covered her up to her chin, this seemed to be the fashion these days, then again I’m sure a colourful blouse and skirt would catch too much attention in a city full of sexually frustrated drug pumpers. She wore no makeup, her brown hair descended past her shoulders, curling at teh tips around her back. She caught me looking at her and smiled innocently at me, i felt a warmth coarse through me, pestering me to smile back, then her gaze turned to the door, and the smile turned to anxious fright.