Post by Captain Falcon on May 9, 2011 13:55:04 GMT -6
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Everyday I'm shufflin'
Yoshio placed his left foot in the bar, a sudden jab of pain pierced his foot, his foot, that had been crying in agony since he delivered an uppercut – performed by his leg, centered in the jaw of some street thug that had been trying to attack him. The impact of the kick had not damaged his foot, but his perfect landing had been prevented by a steel pipe crashing into the forehead of the Marine Captain just as he was about to place his foot gently on the floor again. A street brawl broke out, Yoshio: Accompanied with a headache vs. two mediocre thugs, of course Yoshio kicked their asses. Afterwards he delivered them to the Marine office, like a good Marine would do. He headed to his room, cleaned up the wound on his forehead, and decided to drink the pain away.
This led to the current scenery: a rather nice looking bar, a full wallet in Yoshio’s pocket, and a bartender who seemed eager to sell some booze. The Marine stepped into the bar, gazing for any shady looking figures: nothing caught his eye, and he wasn’t in the mood of another quarrel. Long decisive steps led him to the bar counter, he reached out his hand – loaded with an appropriate amount of coins, asking for a glass of Scotch and ice. The man turned around on his barstool, looking for anything interesting: the bar was pretty full, men, women, even some people that were clearly of the Okama variety – Yoshio tried looking away from them. His Lapis blue eyes pierced the very foggy atmosphere of the bar, observing how the bar was decorated. Nothing peculiar, wooden floors, tall barstools, separate tables by which groups of people could sit and chat while drinking their booze, a ceiling of wood, and a lot of hollowed out bottles all around the walls. Then a tender voice echoed in his ears, and the familiar sound of a glass colliding with wood resonated in his mind, the glass of Scotch had arrived…
Yoshio placed the cold glass to his lips, hearing the tone of the ice cubes colliding in the beverage; it had a nice ring to it. The refreshing, bitter beverage raced down his throat, Yoshio knew it would not be long before the familiar euphoria of the ethanol would kick in, reducing Yoshio’s logic to a minor opinion in his mind. His foot still ached though, and he did not want to keep having to endure the agony, without patience he downed the glass of Scotch, placed a number of coins on the counter and ordered a similar glass, now it was just about waiting for the poison to kick in and nullify his nerves.
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