Burlesque - 3

A puddle of yellow light illuminates the two remaining figures in an otherwise darkened and deserted Dionysian heartland.

« Where did you find it? » Babe, all the perkier for a double shot, is swimming freestyle in the open waters of Phils non-presence.
« There’s still a glimmer of hope for the human race love; someone handed it in. » gently heaving her oh too heavy head onto a crutch of crooked elbow, Val peers at the little box in Babe’s hand. « Seems you weren’t the only one moved by our strange little busker. » Was she taking the piss? You could never tell with Val, the woman seemed to wheel erratically from hearty benevolence to hissing spite - reason wasn‘t in it.

Turning the cube this way and that - confusion cover - Babe has to admit she is intrigued.« Where’s the handle? »

Shrugging Val sighs, a shutter of fatigue rolls slowly down. Closed for business. Levering herself up and stretching disgracefully over the bar she reaches for the telephone.« Wanna share a cab? »

C-R-A-C-K 

boom,

boom,

boom,

boom.

« What the fuck…? » The women, on their feet now, cocked but quavering, swivel heads - this way that way - panting puppets, goggle eyes mirrored, darkened doorway, goggle eyes, doorway, eyes.
« Get the lights! » Babes voice, a high panicky shriek. ‘Bang’ , Val’s stool tumbling as she thrusts herself toward the switch. Illumination, of a sort.

Clutching mitts, babes in the wood they pigeon step - mother may I? - toward the heavily curtained lobby.

« A hand, it’s a fucking hand! » She’s screeching, she knows she’s screeching, but the crimson cheeks are puffing, scarlet breast rising, falling, rising, falling, faster, faster, can not hold it in - can - not - hold - it - in, « Aaargh » (Down on my knees) « Aaarhaaaaagh... »

Black.