The Third Eye

You get ready for your night out at The Crowed House. You're really looking forward to it. It's not often that you can afford a night out in this kind of place.

When you enter, you settle down at the bar with a pint of lager. It is bitter-sweet to the taste and goes down smooth. You couldn't get this at Mickeys.

The band is still setting up, testing thier chords and mic checking. Some drunk calls out a request for the safe-auto jingle. The lead singer flips him off. The band looks kind of punk and you find yourself hoping that it's real punk, not that poppy shit the airwaves have been cramming down everyone's throats as of late.

A fat man sits beside you, he looks fairly well-off, financialy speaking, and orders a beer. He looks over to you and gives you a nod. You nod back, it's the polite thing to do, and return to you drink.

You try to figure out what to do while you are waiting for the band to start. There are a few babes in the bar, and it's certainly not benieth you to try to pick up on them. There are also plenty of people standing out on the dance floor with thier drinks waiting for the band to start up. You consider 'working the crowd'. But you have so much money now that you don't know if it's worth it. On the other hand, the stool cushion is fairly comfortable, not like the splintered wood that you find at Mickey's.

What do you decide?