A Bar Scene

Picture This.

A frog hops into a bar. Wait, what? That isn’t how that is supposed to go. Reset.

Picture This.

I walked into the bar. Nope, still not it. I pushed the door to the bar. It pushed back. I leaned on the door, my friend’s body weight accompanying my own; a crack opened and we slithered through. Met with a mass of bodies the only choice was to become a part of it. That door wasn’t opening again. Over the heads of the many were the few, their knees at others head level. Stilts? More likely the few pieces of furniture that’d be ruined by morning.

The alcoholic sweat pouring off of the others around was enough to get you drunk (not really, that isn’t how that works). If I made it to the bar that is all I remember.

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