Daily Excerpt Post - November 1st

[alison-sky.livejournal.com]

This is where you can take a snippet from your writing from today that you want to share with the other members of the community. And feel free to comment on other people's snippets.

We're all about love and support here, and this is a great place to give it.


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[thatssorad.livejournal.com]

She sighed.

It was another wonderful night in paradise, filled with drunkards, bright lights, loud music, and the inevitable one or two men who felt it perfectly alright – in fact it’s almost expected – to give their waitress a tiny tip but a large helping of unwanted physical affection. If she could sanitize herself in an acid bath after work, she probably would.

Tonight, the bar was packed tightly with all sorts of bodies, twisting and grinding on the medium sized wood dance floor to the sounds of an eighties cover band. It was hard to believe that forty-some years later, people were still grooving to eighties music. Do any of these people even remember the eighties? Were they even born yet? she wondered from beside the bar as she watched groups of young people, who couldn’t be much younger than herself, doing “The Swim” to an edgy, heavy guitar laden version of Rock Lobster. Like David Bowie, The Beatles and Led Zeppelin, it all survives the decades. But why did the eighties have to follow suit as well?

A couple of people caught her eye, swaying their hips and pressing their bodies together sensually at the far end of the floor. It was hardly the kind of music one would (or perhaps should) get that close to, but everyone else was so involved in their own partners and artificial nostalgia that no one but her cared. On a night like this, she shouldn’t have time to care, but so far the cozy neighborhood bar wasn’t turning much of a profit on drinks. So she stood there, arms crossed over her black uniform blouse, watching everyone else have fun.

“Hey, Chloe?” asked a familiar voice from behind her. She turned to find a very panicked co-worker, face slick with sweat, his usually neatly kept curly hair was unruly as though he’d been running his fingers through it.

“What’s the matter, Sam?”

“There’s a woman who locked herself in the bathroom. I can’t get her out. Jackson can’t get her out. We can’t find the friend she came in with. Anyone who goes in there, whether they're there to help her or not has been berated, not to mention she's puking something fierce. If we can’t get her out, there’s a possibility she’ll really hurt herself in there and continue to alienate the other customers.”

“Okay…and what do you think I can do about it?”

“Well, besides the fact that you’re a woman and it’s not odd at all for you to go in that particular bathroom, you have a way of making people see things your way.”

She scoffed. “Oh yeah, after they’ve already had a firm grip of my rear end.”

“Well, if you think it’ll help to offer her a little squeeze…” he said, his voice giving a hint of exasperation.

She laughed softly and set down her serving tray, untying her apron and pushing it out of the way. “You’re such a pig, Sam.”

“Yeah. Well. I’m not the one reaching for your rear end. You going to help me or what?”

She sighed and nodded, resigning herself to the fact that this night was going to end with vomit on her somewhere. “Yeah sure, show me where she is.”