A whirlpool of dark cloud spawned upon the silent alleyway in the dead of night. A blonde man with a black and red suit stepped out of the vanishing cloud and dusted his suit. He checked himself on the glass window on the closed shops and checked his appearance.
As he smiled to his reflection, he glimpses on a club's mirrored image.
It flashes it's pink neon sign, beckoning youth to come in and be wasted.
"Maybe I could check it out and see it's patrons", he uttered.
He walked towards a poster advertising a musician of sorts who is about to play in a few minutes.
He skipped the line of strangers, which one by one glared at him.
"Wait right there, Bucko. What's your name?", the muscular bouncer asked as he pushed Don away.
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
"Donnie Vasco", he replied, briefly furrowing his eyebrows as he shows his ID.
"You are not on the VIP list", the bouncer said, crossing his arms.
Don chuckled, smiled, and tilted his head, as if it's a funny mistake by a moron.
The guard glared on him, "What so funny?".
He then snapped downwards on the bouncer's face and ordered,
"Do check again".
The bouncer scanned again on the list and became flabbergasted seeing the name right in the middle.
"Do not waste my time, I don't want to miss the show", Don remarked.
"I swore it was.. Okay, get in", the bouncer muttered defeatedly as he unhooks the velvet rope ,
"Sorry for the mistake"
Don shrugged his shoulders.
"It happens"
Don scouted the dim hallway, then is met with flashing lights,
teenage drunkards and conversing cliques. He pushed through the crowd to be close enough to the stage.
He did a double take on the room and noticed he is the only one wearing a black suit, while all of the other patrons wear colorful outfits.
The band came out of the curtains towards their respective musical instruments. In a glance, the lead singer looks like Urma Thurman from Pulp Fiction but the singer's masculine voice says otherwise as he opens up his mouth to the mic.