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Luckily I was smart enough to keep some money separate before I got here. No one wants to be stuck behind the guy fumbling through his wallet. I'll separate more money later. A barmaid comes over and I smile at her Simpsons name badge - don't ask - and I order my first drink, triple tequila with orange, pure nectar in alcoholic form, though many would disagree.
I look at the dance floor, actually at the floor considering there is no one dancing at this time. Briefly I consider going there, I then hear the current song and continue on my search. I share various nods and winks and waves to people I know. I'll talk to them later, if I feel the need to be immature or ingest smoke. Opening the door to 'toilet alley' and I meet eyes with Lauren. She stares right back; my heart stops and literally I have stopped breathing and I can barely feel people push past me.
She is the first to shout over the music: 'HI!'
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'Err...hey, how are you?' I shout back at her.
'Good, you?'
'Sober.' She laughs, but I think it's only because I do.
'See you later?'
'Of course.' She quickly kisses my cheek and dashes off. I watch her walk away, leaning against the wall before the door closes on me and I reach out for it, I stop myself just in time.
Suddenly I feel a hand on my shoulder and turn to see Adrian. His hair is spiked six inches in the air and the biggest grin ever.
'There you are!' He shouts into my ear. 'Always late.'
'Where we sitting?'
'I'll show you.'
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He leads me through the people playing with their phones to our usual table, near one of the bars. This one is near entrance, but you have to walk round the club to get here.
And the gang is all sat around, from left to right is Clark (long hair, soul patch), his girlfriend Diane (short purple hair, long flowing dress) and Edward (Top hat). I sit down beside Edward and they all cheer a greeting, I return with my own and take a large sip from my drink.
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We spend the next hour either talking about random stuff or going up for drinks, Clark and Diane are the first to feel the effect of theirs and are quickly trying to choke the other with their tongues. The rest of us nod to each other and slink away.
As we turn the corner away I give one glance back at the couple, noticing a pair of guys, wearing glasses, take up the empty seats next to them, seemingly oblivious to the kissing pair, I recognise the one with long hair. When I can't place him I shrug my shoulders and follow Adrian and Edward. I decide to leave the other two and get myself another drink, the crowd is a little denser now and I have to fight my way to get into the crowd surrounding the bar. Which means I'm also fighting my way to get to the bar.
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My eyes catch this girl who looks a little frazzled in front of me, I can tell that it's her first night and being the gentleman I am offer her a boon.
'What are you drinking?' I ask her, leaning close to her ear so she has a chance of hearing me.
She turns to me in shock and replies with: 'what?'
'What drink do you want?'
'Why do you want to know?'
'So I can buy you it, you look a little lost, thought I'd help you.'
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'It's a double vodka, lemonade and blackcurrant...you don't have to '
'I want to, go sit down and I'll bring it over.'
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Fiction - Invasion By Bob Spence
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Moody just couldn't stop scratching. His shirt was far too stiff at the edge of the collar
and the coarse material was driving him to distraction.
You could also say that Moody was distracted anyway. He was waiting for a letter from his fiancee
and there was none.
Read more...
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Fiction - The Death and Birth and Death of a Legend By Bob Spence
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Goober liked to be busy. Some people could handle doing nothing, not Goober Walton.
Running the tidy but ancient gasoline concession suited. Suited well.
It was orderly and everything clearly had its place.
Some would say it looked almost military in its order and for that it
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Fiction - Feller's in Cut By Maurice Fairfield
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Well that's her gone. You don't remember me do you?
I'll have a pint while you're thinking about it.
It's me Jack, Harry Fergus's son. Here for the funeral.
Thought I'd see her get put under. Not sure why.
It's always a laugh though, watching a parson doing a
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Fiction - Fishheads By Michelle Dee
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Monstrous silver and blue -green severed fish heads emerged at the forefront of her mind.
Open, close, open, close the gaping mouths. She fancied there were others behind it.
Each time the razor sharp teeth were bared she looked into the blacker than
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Fiction - Firm but Fair By Mark Pollard
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Cry-Baby Jim Breaks. He pioneered it, they say.
And the hushed, almost ecclesiastical tones of Ken Walton had heralded it's
entry into Saturday afternoon folklore: the bright lights of
Blackpool and Great Yarmouth, down to the lesser reputes of Ilfracombe and
Skegness had all borne witness
Read more...
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Fiction - Puzzles By Denis Price
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I've got a really nice room, when the door's closed I feel ever so safe and warm. It's quiet as well,
just the swish of the wind in the trees outside. I like the trees; they hide the big tall fence.
My watchers say the fence is there to keep me safe, and that's their job too, they're always there
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Fiction - COLD WAR TALES- THE CUBAN MISSILE CRISIS By Denis Price
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The piercing insistent wail of the siren woke him. `For Christ`s sake now what!` Over the tannoy the
smooth expensive voice intoned languidly that this was only a drill and that all personnel
should continue with their normal duties.
He groaned and thought, this is my normal
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Fiction - Scrawls Of The Unexpected By Mark Pollard
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Professor Colin Pillinger, lead scientist on the Beagle II programme, was calm but well pissed off
inside. He had been clinging to the idea that his £35 million Mars Probe was stuck in a crater,
waiting for some narrow rays of sunlight to banish the shade for a few precious hours each day
in order that
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Fiction - A Short Story - The Beaver Stalker By The J.E.M. Cult
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I stepped out into the cold frosty air.
I pulled my muffler tighter round my hands and crunched across the frozen grass. Today was the first day of the beaver season- and by golly, I was sure gonna get me one.
I love beavers. I can't help it. There's just something about stroking that damp fur that sends me
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Fiction - The Art Of Being Alone In A Crowded Bar By Rich Mills
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What music are you into, man? The American exchange student who had earlier introduced himself, without any regard for Jean-Paul's need to be alone, suddenly threw a curve-ball of a question in his direction.
Well I listen to... What followed was a definitive list of bands from Jean-Paul's wide ranging rare vinyl
Read more...
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Fiction - Old Tired & Completely Rucked By Martin Dale
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Of course, I used to be big league me. Right up there with the bigwigs I was. Every game I'd be out there, working my socks off for the club.
I'd be at the bottom of every ruck, in the thick of every maul, I'd cover more of the pitch than anyone else on the team.
Pretty good really, now that I come to think about it,
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Fiction - From a Spirited Beginning By Martin Dale
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My earliest memory? Isolation.
Being small, vulnerable, completely alone. I was surrounded by seemingly alien life, one with the life, but at the same time different, distinct. I came from this being, but I was no longer completely a part of it. I had a separate consciousness. No. Not yet. That was to come. At that time it was only an instinct.
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Fiction - A Man with Two Horses By Lazyswede
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I met a man today that had two horses, but he could not get the horses to go the way he wanted them to. The gray mare wanted to take the footpath to the left and the old chestnut mare wanted to take the footpath to the right, while the man wanted to go back the way he came because he knew he would be late for his dinner if he took either of the other two paths.
Read more...
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