And It Started Like This

Tonight I'm F......

A/N: This song has been haunting since yesterday, so what should we do? Make it a chapter of this story. Hahaha

Enjoy!

***

Turbo's voice was so quick and high that Mew got a sensation only dogs could hear him now, and he was practically vibrating with excitement.

"Okay, who gave the chihuahua coffee?" Ton sighed as he squinted at the jittery brunette. "Just pretend there's a cock in there, Jesus, and breathe through your nose like a cock."

They'd managed to find a table on the club's top level with a view of the stage and dance floor. There had already been five or six performances, the majority of which were one-of-a-kind versions or interpretations of current top-charting songs. Some of the dancers were single or in a group, while others were vocalists who performed altered covers. A particularly stunning performance with black light paint drummers and Capoeira dancers, however, had been the most recent. The dark lighting had contributed to the appearance of their white slacks, and by the end, neon paint had splattered their white garments and exposed chests. When they finished, the club echoed loudly with the rhythmic, heavy drumming, and the cheering continued long after the artists had left the stage.

"Wow. That must be a bitch to clean," Ton said after the screaming in the club had dwindled enough for him to be heard over it.

"It looks like they have some sort of mat put down on the stage," Mew replied. "And I think they use grease paint. That shit never dries."

As the host—a woman in a skin tight brown outfit and an icy white wig—returned to the front of the club and waited for the cheering to fade, two men crouch at the edges of the stage and begin rolling up the enormous black mat. She'd grown since the last time they'd seen her, and each time she blinked, she blinked with overdone artificial eyelashes that sparkled under the spotlights. On the left side of her face, there was a gigantic brown and gold lightning bolt. Ton snorted in dislike. "Okay, did Lady Gaga throw up on that woman?"

Mew grunted in agreement as he reached for his beer. It's a shame she didn't go for the meat dress."

Halfway through the shirtless dancing spectacle, Turbo's gay was flowing from the rafters, his head having ruptured. Then, when the paint started to flow everywhere and the strobe lights came on, the smoke filled the stage, and the dancers were sort of weaving in and out, oh my God! I can't believe how cool that was! I wish I could do something like that. "I used to take dance classes, but I wasn't very good, but maybe I should do it again— oh my God, and then when the strobe lights came on, and the smoke filled the stage

With a bored expression on their faces, Mew and Ton glanced at the young man hopping up and down in his seat.

"Is he still talking?" Ton questioned, his roommate's face a little shaky.

As if Turbo wasn't there, Mew murmured, shook his head, and continued on as if he hadn't noticed Turbo. 'I'm sure it was the Corona I gave him,' she says.

When Mew mentioned the drink Mew had ordered him early in the night, Turbo—who hadn't been paying any attention to his companions and was still rambling as he watched the stagehands set up for the next show—seemed to check in again.

That thing was so amazing. What was that cocktail called again? A Jagger Bomb?" "Oh, that stuff was so good.

Mew elaborated at Ton's quirked eyebrow, the regret clear by his face alone. When they let their squirrely child to get the extra-large slushee at a gas station, they were like two parents who had made the same error. "It's a Jagger and corona drop shot."