Archive of Our Own ^beta

The Comic Strip was opening up for the night. The Outer Limits were hawking outside the doors, grabbing random people and throwing them into the building to make up the crowd. Inside Dawn was floating around, turning on the neon lights all throughout the club, complaining to anyone who would listen how they still wouldn’t let her fucking perform.

In the wings, Alexei and the Dangerous Brothers were in a vicious hissed argument.

“We’re going on first you fat bastard!” Richard spat, jabbing a finger in his face.

“Get fucked, I don’t care if you blow me up with ya Molotov Cocktails or feed me to ya crocodiles, we ain’t havin’ you two cunts opening…!”

“Ooer,” giggled Sir Adrian, before remembering to put his threatening scowl back on.

Someone got the music started for the pre-show and Alexei and Richard stopped in their argument to look around in confusion, Sir Adrian clearing out his ear. It sounded all odd and stretched out like old bubble-gum.

When you take me by the hand

Tell me I’m your lovin’ man

When you give me all your love

And do it babe the very best you can

“It’s playing real slow don’t you think?” Richard said, face furrowed up with confusion.

“I’mma have a word with the spinner, don’t you fellas worry, I’ll sort it out,” said Alexei, completely jovial again. Giving Richard a pat on the cheek, he strode off. Sir Adrian slipped a hand around his partner’s waist. He was bobbing his head along to the beat.

“It’s so hot when you act all threatening like that,” he said. Richard waggled his eyebrows at him and grinned.

“Oh yeah?” he said and they did a quick look around before bounding away to find the nearest flat surface.

It was a stinking hot summer’s night. Sally Friedman was off-duty, just out with the rest of Bad News to have a bit of fun and laugh at some alternative comedy. Vim and Colin had bickered the whole walk over of course, which ended up with Vim chasing Colin down an alley and pushing him over into a rubbish bin.

“I smell like rotten eggs now!” Colin wailed, trailing behind them, his eyeliner running with tears.

“At least you don’t smell like shit, like Den does,” Sally told him.

“That backfiring car really scared me,” Den protested. Still, they all kept a wide distance from him. It had its advantages though, the people who hung around the Comic Strip were rather a frightening assortment, barking coppers and German playwright impersonators. Den’s smell kept them far away.

“You don’t smell like rotten eggs, Col,” Spider reassured him. “You smell like your mum’s perfume.”

The lads all giggled at that.

“I think your perfume’s lovely Colin,” Sally told him as he continued pouting. Sally and Vim were going steady but she had said she was alright with Vim continuing his little thing with Colin. She thought they made a kinda cute pair to be honest. All the endless squabbling got bloody tiring though. You’d think sleeping together would make them a bit fonder of each other, but it absolutely didn’t.

Den’s stench was also helpful in clearing away the foul-mouthed door man and the bustling crowd outside the Comic Strip. When they got inside Den said he’d pop into the loos to clean up and Colin followed to get the egg-shells out of his wig. Spider went off to score some drugs.

Vim put an arm around Sally. He smelled of cigarettes and hairspray and his eyelashes were almost translucent on his pale cheek as he screwed his pretty face up distastefully at the unhip music. Sally had asked him out first and he’d gotten so shy and stuttering which she’d found hilarious, big tough metal singer blushing over a girl.

She heard some obnoxious kissy noises and turned to see Den back already. He still stunk.

“You didn’t clean up very well?” Vim snapped at him.

“Yeah well there were two blokes banging in the loos so I couldn’t get to the soap,” Den said. Sally’s journalist senses started tingling

“I wonder if it’s one of the comedians?” she said. “That’d be a cool story, Comic Strip stars have secret sex affair.”

Vim made a frustrated noise as she slipped away to investigate. He got annoyed at her nosiness, how she always wanted to get into people’s business. She guessed it made them even, all his arguing with Colin drove her up the wall so it was only fair she did something to get on his nerves too.

The Comic Strip had an edge to it, especially the back corridors that were so uncomfortably hot and dark it was like walking into the bowels of hell. As Sally's make-up slid off her face with sweat and her shirt stuck to her back, she felt that the vibe of the place reminded her of the Italian horror film Suspiria. The back hallways twisted around like a rabbit’s den, all the neon lights washing people out in greens and reds and yellows and the music seemed warped and droning. She thought someone might be playing records that were usually at 45 rpm at 33 instead. Right now a usually romantic love song had suddenly become ominous and sinister.

Just the two of us,

We can make it if we try,

Just the two of us,

Building them castles in the sky,

Just the two of us,

You and I

There was a faint screeching, yelling, thumping sound in the distance that she guessed was the happy couple so she followed it until she reached the gents. Sally cracked the door to the men’s loos open to peep in on them.

Two blokes in matching suits were all over each other at the end sink, rolling around and shouting and screaming into each other’s faces.

“My turn!” yelled the brunette. “Prepare your bottom for major impact!”

“Stick it up me!” yelled the blond man. Then, in perfect unison they both noticed Sally at once. The brunette wrenched back, fell over himself and slammed onto the floor, his cock still out, screeching;

“It’s a lady!”

The blond fell off the sink with a thump, knocking off the tap and making water shoot everywhere, shrieking;

“What’s a lady doing in the gents?”

They struggled to get to their feet, slipping and sliding and tripping over their trousers, the water rushing out of the pipes, in utter shock at the idea of a woman in the men’s loos.

Quickly closing the door, Sally blinked rapidly, rather wishing she could scrub that image from her mind. Curiosity killed the cat! Always wanting to pry tended to bite her in the arse at the end of the day!

There was a bark of laughter and she turned. A door that led to the green room was open and inside was Spider with his arm around a woman with smeared make-up, looking like she had taken every substance in existence.

“You get used to that around here,” said the woman. “I think the Dangerous Brothers have had sex in every corner of the entire building. They even bloody did it on the roof once.”

Spider was completely uninterested in the conversation. He rested his head on her shoulder and sent her puppy dog eyes.

“Got anymore pills, Dawn?” asked Spider and she turned to give him a big sappy smile. Sally quickly hurried away, leaving them all to it.

Kevin Turvey had slipped behind the stage and was sitting on the floor in the darkness of the curtains with his drink with a straw in it. At the moment, he was unfurling the plastic straw with interest, wondering how they were made. He wondered if someone spent all day in a straw factory, curling up bits of plastic to make them. Well not all day, they’d have to leave to go home and sleep and go to the lavatory and eat food of course. Another topic to investigate.

He looked up at the sound of footsteps. His good friend that he’d just made recently, Dick Kirrin was standing in front of him with a look of relief on his face.

“Oh there you are!” he said. “Why are you hiding out here for Kevin?”

“It was really loud out there,” Kevin said. “Out there in the crowd I mean, not like…outside or down the street or anything…”

Dick had invited him to a place he'd heard about called the Comic Strip and he thought it would be interesting to investigate stand-up comedians and why they were called stand up for, were there any comedians called sat down? But it was a pretty horrible club, he had to admit. Really hot and humid and Dick had told him if he was so sweaty he should take off his anorak but Kevin was scared if he took it off, it would get pinched, pinched as in stolen, not just someone randomly pressing it between their fingers, that’d be quite odd. So anyway, Kevin had just stood there, feeling completely overheated with a big headache. They’d done something funny to the music to make it sound really slow and creepy and the crowd was all shouty and sweary and they all smelt bad and pushed into each other. He’d run off to go find somewhere calm to sit. He could still faintly hear the strange music, all reverberating, but it was far away now and not thumping in his head.

You want a friend you can rely on

One who will never fade away

And if you’re searching for an answer

Stick around, I say

It’s coming up,

Like a flower. It’s coming up

“You had me worried!” Dick said. “I was looking all over for you!”

Kevin blinked up at him with confusion.

“Like…all over the world?” he said with a touch of awe in his voice. Dick sat down beside him.

“No, just around the club, baby” Dick said. Dick often called him things that weren’t his name and some of them he thought were nice like darling or sweetheart, but baby confused him, because he hadn’t been a baby for a very long time actually.

“Can I put my arm around your shoulders?” he asked. Kevin nodded. Dick was very cuddly and Kevin wasn’t sure how he felt about it at first but he was kinda starting to like it. No one cuddled Kevin very much, not even his mum really. More everyone just punched him in his face. Dick’s arm slipped around him, nice and comfortable. Kevin was still transfixed with his unfurled piece of plastic as Dick’s hand stroked his upper arm.

“I wonder how straws are made?” he asked him and Dick made a humming sound.

“You’ll have to investigate it, won’t you?” he told him, giving his shoulder a squeeze. Kevin liked the firm, strong pressure. He nodded again.

Absolutely! 

Richie Rich bounced off the stage to applause so loud it nearly raised the roof. Filthy had gotten him a gig at the Comedy Strip and he’d absolutely nailed it! They even threw stuff at the stage for him to have, a lot of empty cans though, must have drunk it all in excitement.

In the wings, Catflap was covering up his face, looking half horrified, half amused. Officially Catflap was his ‘minder’ but they just put that on the papers back before homosexuality was legal so they wouldn’t get in troub. Catflap told him no one bought it for a second and they all knew he wasn’t just living in Richie’s house to ‘mind’ him and that he did a lot more than just mind him…ooer. Richie thought he was just being paranoid. It was a great cover story!

“Christ what was that?” he asked. “No-one’s bombed that hard since the IRA tried to wipe out Maggie at the Brighton…”

Eddie always spoke in political terms that he didn’t understand. Trying to be bloody clever all the time!

“I think I did great!” he said, smiling proudly. Still had his golden touch! Had the crowd in hysterics!

“They were laughing at you, not with you, you big dumb bastard,” Catflap said, rolling his eyes.

“Jealousy is a sin, Eddie,” he told him, nearly oozing smugness.

“Your eyeliner is running,” he said snidely back.

“All celebrities wear a bit of stage makeup, everyone knows that, anyway it’s bloody boiling in here, it’s not my fault I perspire, the ladies like a masculine scent anyway!” he snapped at him. He reckoned he looked pretty damn good thank you very much! Even though he kinda felt absolutely soaked to the bone in sweat. Perhaps wearing a velvet suit wasn’t the best idea in the middle of summer.

“Sorry, Rich, I need to go to the bathroom to be copiously sick.”

He staggered off down the corridor.  He was about to shout something back at him, when his manager came crawling out of the shadows like an overlarge tarantula. Funny how he manifested out of nowhere the second Catflap was out of sight.

“I just have to steal you for a few seconds,” he said as his hands went sliding over Richie’s shoulders, ushering him away. When Richie was younger he didn’t really like Filthy touching him all the time, but he’d known him for years now and had gotten accustomed to it. Filthy led Richie away into the never-ending maze of corridors backstage. Richie could feel his head thumping with the music all weird and distorted.

Come a little closer hun, oh will yah hun,

Close enough to look in my eyes Sharona,

Keepin’ it a mystery, it gets to me,

Running down the length of my thigh, Sharona...

“I did great didn’t I?” he said happily.

“Of course sweetheart,” said Filthy and opened up one of the doors to an office. He was sat down at a table in front of two other men in sunglasses smoking cigars. Filthy took a seat beside him, gratefully took a cigar off one of them without asking, arm still clutched firmly over his shoulder. Another thing he’d gotten used to over the years of dealing with Filthy was the absolute stink of old booze, fags and body odour. It wasn’t just a family name, Filthy!

“These are two very good friends of mine, daughter,” Filthy told him. “Well…Paul’s actually a cousin, but still, still, the point is, Paul and Raymond are really excited to meet you. Aren’t you fellas?”

The two men just coolly nodded.

“Very,” said Raymond.

“Now we’ve got a little idea for you,” said Filthy. “What about a bit of a career change eh? Come on now, you’re not really…made for the stage are you?”

Richie frowned at him. Of course he was made for the stage, what was he talking about? He was a shining star?

“You said I did great just then!” he protested.

“Of course you did, of course,” said Filthy smiling with all his stained teeth. “But I think you could do something else even better…”

Well yes, he was multi-skilled, that was for sure. There really wasn’t anything he couldn’t do when he came to think of it. He was just a born prodigy!

“Easy work and great money,” Filthy told him and he nodded eagerly. The less effort put into something the better, he reckoned.

“All you need to do is just…escort people around, you know. Some people get lonely and want a bit of company when they go out. They’d be so thrilled to have such a well-known celebrity with them.”

Then he gave Richie's chin a bit of a scratch with one long cracked nail.

“And I’d expect they’d want a little something extra from someone as pretty as you.”

Well, he thought he was more handsome than pretty, he was an absolute bloody dreamboat, it didn’t matter what Catflap said about him being fat with a shit haircut...

“If you’d like to sign this contract…” said Paul, pulling out a piece of paper.

“Yes sign right here…” said Raymond, getting out a pen. Taking it, Richie was just about to scribble down his long, looping, extravagant signature. Filthy was such a great manager, always helping him out. Imagine that, getting paid just to keep someone company, that was the easiest money in the world!

“Oi!” came a familiar shout and the door burst open. Filthy jumped, clutching at his heart.

“Oh don’t sneak up on a dying man like that, Eddie!”

“Hey!” Richie shouted as Catflap yanked the contract out of his hands. As he quickly skimmed through it, Richie saw a growing look of rage on his face. He turned to Filthy with fire in his eyes.

“Get the fuck out!” he shouted at him. Raymond and Paul were already scurrying away, completely cowed.

“Come on Eddie, settle down, settle down…” Filthy tried to say. Catflap grabbed him by the collar and hauled him out the door, slamming it shut behind him. Looking absolutely murderous, he started tearing the contract up to little pieces

“Why’d you do that for?” Richie snapped at him furiously. “I was about to make some great money!”

“For fuck’s sake, Rich, he was about to pimp you out!” Eddie said back in exasperation. “Didn’t you even read the contract you were about to sign?”

Richie huffed and rolled his eyes.

“Really Eddie! You’re deranged! They said I was just going to escort people around for a bit of company?” he said. Gosh, was Catflap stupid sometimes! He was always determined to think the worst of Filthy. Richie had known Filthy since he was a kid, he wasn’t about to turn around and pimp him out! Geez!

“You can’t be that naïve?” he said disbelievingly, shaking his head. “God I don’t know how you survived before you had me!”

The cheek! He did really bloody well thank you! It wasn’t Filthy’s fault all of his inheritance and fortune went missing one day. He’d known Filthy forever. He trusted him.

“You scare the shit out of me sometimes Rich,” Eddie said. “Promise you won’t ever go anywhere alone with Filthy, okay? Just make sure I’m with you all the time...”

Silly old Eddie, such a worry-wart. Richie was fine, absolutely fine. He was perfectly capable of taking care of himself.

“I prom,” he said and Eddie looked confused. Didn’t even know the hip new slang!

“I promise,” he said, humouring him and then leaned over to give him a reassuring peck on the cheek. Catflap just drew him into a possessive embrace, kissing him hard enough to make Richie’s knees feel trembly.

“I gotta look after you,” Catflap told him. “Sure I might try to scam ya from time to time, but Filthy’s demented. You have no idea what he’s capable of.”

Catflap was hugging him so hard, Richie thought his ribs were going to snap like twigs. He squirmed a bit in his arms.

He might not look it, but he reckoned at the end of the day Eddie was one heck of a great minder.

Worth every penny and more.

Vim had tried to go find Sally and had gotten lost. Didn’t know how to get back to the main area of the club, the back corridors absolutely labyrinthine. He thought the club’s atmosphere was making him feel drunker than usual. He’d only had a few lagers and it seemed to be hitting him harder than usual. There wasn’t a single window in the whole club and no fans or air conditioning, so the air was as thick and hot as syrup and the music sounded like sludge. Vim reckoned the records were turned all the way down to 16 speed or something. He felt slightly dizzy, sweat pouring off him and his head spinning.

He spotted a familiar mane of curly black hair. Relief hit hard.

“Col!” he said and Colin turned around, wavering on the spot. He looked just as drunk and disorientated as Vim felt. The bassist immediately went over to cling to his arm like a little lost lamb.

“I don’t really like it here, Vim,” Colin admitted. “It’s kinda creepy.”

“Aw, gonna piss your pants?” Vim said at once. Colin didn’t even glare at him which threw Vim for a spin. Normally that would instantly instigate a blazing row. He noticed Colin looked paler than usual, a bit green around the eyes.

“I’ve been trying to get out of these damn corridors for some fresh air, I feel sick,” Colin complained. Vim spotted an open door around the corner to what looked like a green room. He led poor Colly-Wolly inside and sat him down at a table, going to fetch him some cold water. Colin took it gratefully.

“Oh look!” Vim said gleefully. On the bench, he’d found a little baggie of weed. “Score!”

Colin looked at him uncertainly.

“You might get in trouble if you pinch it, Vim?” he said, clutching his cold water under his chin.

“You’re such a square Col,” said Vim as he sat down and got out his lighter and rolling papers.

Colin was always such a tosser when it came to weed. Got real nervous whenever they smoked that the cops were going to arrest him, or that somehow a few puffs would turn him into a junkie addicted to every hard drug known to man. Clearly he didn’t want to smoke and it wasn’t like anyone forced him to. He just did it to try to fit in.

When Vim passed him the joint, like always Colin took the shallowest, barely-there puff imaginable and then burst into a coughing fit.

“Good ol…wacky tobacky…” he said with a weak smile.

If Vim was in a bad mood, a comment like that would have set him off about how Colin was a giant poser, not a real rockstar. Just wearing the lifestyle like a Halloween costume before taking it off to go back to his high-class banker life where he really belonged. But he was feeling rather fond of the big silly prat today.

“Do you want blow back?” he asked. Colin looked aghast.

“Right here?” Colin yelped and Vim laughed at him. God could he get any more naïve and sheltered?

“Get ya mind out the gutter,” he told him. “Blow back’s just when I take a hit then we have a snog and I blow it into your mouth. Real sexy.”

Colin’s cheeks went red.

“Okay,” he said, playing a bit nervously with his hands. Ha! Shy over a kiss still, the absolute virgin! Vim, not breaking eye-contact with him, took in a few deep inhales of the joint. Then, slipping his hands up to cup Colin’s flushing face, he brought him in for a kiss, exhaling the smoke into his mouth. Colin coughed all over him, which wasn’t exactly sexy…but Vim was still in a good mood, didn’t feel like hitting him over it. Just deepened the kiss instead.

It soon got heated. Pawing at each other, breathing harshly into each other’s mouths. Just as Vim’s hand was creeping down Colin’s back towards his bum, Colin suddenly perked up when he heard the music change. He pulled away.

She's a very kinky girl

The kind you don't take home to mother

She will never let your spirits down

Once you get her off the street, oh girl

“I like Rick James!” he said. “He’s got glittery hair!”

Typical Colin! Disco was dead, the most uncool genre to ever be a fan of and of course he loved it! He didn’t have time to make fun of him, cause Colin was crawling into his lap and wiggling his hips about and throwing his hair around. Obviously in his head it was an incredibly seductive dance like he was a high-class stripper or something. In reality he looked like he was trying to bat away a persistent bee. Vim burst out laughing.

“It's a lapdance!” Colin protested. “Real sexy!”

Then he fell hard onto his knees on the ground.

“I did that on purpose,” he told Vim. “I’m gonna…lick ya dick…:

He burst into giggles at the vulgar rhyme he made.

“That’s a good song title, Col,” Vim said, impressed. His favourite thing about Colin was his stupid flappy tongue and had many a fantasy before they hooked up about making him put it to good use. The fantasy wasn’t quite the same as reality though. Colin let out a frustrated grunt as he struggled with Vim’s fly. Then he tried to seductively give him a kiss on the thigh and just ended up head-butting him instead.

“Ow you bastard!” Vim snapped.

Colin fell backwards over onto the floor and then gave up on getting up again, his eyes fluttering closed, beginning to snore. A part of Vim was disappointed he wasn’t getting a blowjob but the other part of him felt all silly and affectionate, looking down at his bandmate sleeping on the ground with his thumb in his mouth. He leaned down to put him onto his side so he wouldn’t do a real rockstar move and choke on his puke. His upper arm was freezing cold.

“I’ll getcha a blankie,” he told him, getting up on shaky feet. He was bloody plastered! Plastered like…wall-paper! Ha!

Giggling to himself he staggered out of the room, nearly crashing into the opposite wall. His drunk mind was positively determined on its one goal. Get Colin a blanket. He didn’t want him to be cold.

“Don’t be cold Colly…Colly…Wolly…Colander…” he murmured under his breath, staggering down the hall. “Coriander…”

Those were some great lyrics! He should make a song about Colin!

“Oh pretty Colly, you’re my dolly, can you suck my cock like a lolly…” he said as he reached the wings that finally led him out of the hellish corridors. He grabbed at the curtain that covered the back wall of the stage.

“Hey!” yelled the emcee on stage. “Stop interrupting my bit ya daft bastard, I’ll have yer head on a plate and didn’t you kill my brother….!”

Vim ignored him, ripping up the curtain, the fabric snapping off the hooks as the audience roared with laughter.

“Vim, your trousers are falling down!” he heard Den shout from the crowd and he realized he’d forgotten to do them up after Colin’s terrible blow-job attempt. He just flipped him the V’s. Staggering back down the corridor, dragging the curtains behind him, he managed to find the green room again, kicking down the door.

“Ow!” Colin murmured in his sleep, the door banging off his head. That would sting when he was sober. Vim tried to gently drape the curtains over him but just dropped them instead until he was completely covered. Panic blared in his chest. Colin might suffocate! Sure he hated the prim prissy prick but he didn’t want him to die!

Sitting down heavily, he pulled the curtain down til Colin had some breathing room. The effort of it all had utterly exhausted him. Vim flopped down beside him and tried to get under the curtain to have a little cuddling session. He couldn’t quite manage that though, his hands too clumsy. He fell asleep beside him, trying fruitlessly to pat his hair, the real hair beneath the stupid wig, not quite able to reach. Colin didn’t even mind when Vim belched in his face.

Don't you want somebody to love

Don't you need somebody to love

Wouldn't you love somebody to love

You better find somebody to love

By the bar, Eddie was stealing empty glasses and swigging the dregs of booze at the bottom. Richie with his fingers plugged in his ears stood at his side impatiently, so utterly drenched in sweat, his nipples were showing through his almost translucent shirt. This dive bar didn’t even have a dinky little fan in the middle of bloody summer!

“You said you were gonna help me get laid!” Richie hissed. “You weren’t just talking about doing it with you again were you, I want to do it to a girl for once, I'm sick of always doing it with you!”

"You were singing a different tune in the alleyway before, darling," Eddie said and then yelped out; "oh Eddie, Eddie, do me harder, harder...!"

Richie stamped viciously at Eddie's foot to shut him up.

“Anyway I have a cunning plan,” said Eddie with a grin. “This is sure to get you some female action, sonny my lad.”

“Huh?” yelled Richie, still with his fingers in his ears like a giant dickhead. He didn’t like the music, said it was too loud.

Eddie reached over to yank his hands down and repeated what he’d said. A wild filthy grin crossed Richie’s face. He made a grunting sound deep in his chest like some kind of deranged animal in heat as he swivelled his hips.

“Oi stop that, I might bring up my liquid dinner,” Eddie told him sternly.

They put the plan into action. Eddie sidled up next to a woman with running make-up, slightly swaying from side to side.

“Hey lovey,” he said with an exaggerated leer, putting an arm around her shoulder. “How ‘bout you and me skedaddle right outta here and get to know each other eh?”

He waggled his eyebrows ridiculously. The idea was to be so sleazy the woman would be utterly outraged at him. Instead, the woman turned to him and grinned;

“We could do it on the stage in front of everyone, really Avant Garde!” she said. “My name’s Dawn, what’s your name?”

Eddie blinked at her. Then he looked over at Richie, who was anxiously playing with his hands. The plan had completely derailed itself in only a second. With a bemused shrug, they decided to just soldier on with it.

“Hey man, hey man!” Richie said, swaggering over, big and tough. He whacked Eddie on the shoulder. “The lady said no! Back off, just back off or there'll be trouble!”

“I didn’t say no?” Dawn said with confusion.

“Just shut up, you’re ruining everything!” Richies spat at her. Then he shoved Eddie roughly. Eddie shoved him back.

“Oh it’s a fight then?” said Richie doing a few puny air punches. Dawn stared between the two, utterly baffled.

“Are you two fighting over me?” she said. “I can have you both? A live threesome on the stage, it'll blow everyone's minds!”

The two were completely fixated on their fake fight, not paying her a lick of attention. Richie swung back and punched Eddie as hard as he could right in the kisser. The crowd turned around with excitement.

“Fight, fight, fight!” someone started chanting. Eddie was staggering to and fro, cross-eyed. Grabbing a glass, he smashed it over Richie’s head. Richie immediately went down, managing to grab the other man by the collar and pull him with him. They clambered madly at each other, forgetting it was supposed to be a fake fight and going full throttle. Richie pulled Eddie’s jacket over his head, blinding him and Eddie kicked around uselessly until he managed to get Richie between the legs.

“Bastard!” yelled Richie, clutching at himself as Eddie managed to get the jacket off, his glasses askew. Richie jabbed him in the eyes. Dawn had grown bored and decided to wander off. Neither man really cared anymore.

“Alright, alright,” the door man came blundering over. “Get outta here, ya cunts, go on fuck off.”

He grabbed them both by the collars and hauled them out the front door, chucking them into the street. Richie felt very pleased with himself for getting the last hit in. He didn’t always win their fights but whenever he did, he felt like the most tough, manly macho man around! Eddie saw his smug look and snorted.

“I won the fight! You’re bleeding and I’m not!” he protested. Richie felt the blood running down his face from the smashed glass over his head. He immediately panicked.

“I’m going to bleed to death! I don’t want to die! I haven’t even done it to a chick yet!” he shouted and then burst into tears. Eddie made half-hearted soothing noises and pulled him away from the club.

“Doctor Eddie will fix ya up,” Eddie said, reaching into his pocket for some booze. “Alcohol kills the infection doesn’t it?”

He splashed some of the liquid right onto Richie’s bloody cuts. Richie screamed at the top of his lungs, clutching at his face.

“Oh shit…that didn’t quite work did it?” Eddie said with a laugh. He got out a dirty handkerchief and tried to wipe at the running blood. He’d forgotten that his pockets were full of gravel where he’d fallen out a window earlier that day. Bits of dirt and tiny pebbles all got stuck in Richie’s cuts and he wailed in pain. He was doing one heck of a rotten job at this!

“Do you want me to kiss it better?” he offered helplessly. Still crying, Richie nodded. Putting his arms around him, Eddie planted a few sloppy kisses all over the other man’s face, cringing a bit at the nasty metallic blood taste. Richie managed a tiny smile, eyes still wet and his nose still running.

“My knob hurts too, you’ll have to kiss that better as well,” Richie told him. Eddie rolled his eyes.

“Don’t push your luck,” he said, giving his nose an affectionate tap. 

Inside, Filthy slithered over to a back corner where a turntable and a stack of records sat. He put his hand on the shoulder of the man behind the music. His nephew looked up at him.

“Thank you for getting me a job here for the night,” said Neil.

“Oh it's fine, it’s fine, darling,” said Filthy. “We’ve had a few complaints though…why not play it at regular speed eh?”

“Huh?” said Neil, dull and confused. “It is on regular speed Uncle Ralph?”

The crowd were applauding for the Dangerous Brothers who had gone bouncing wildly off the stage like a pair of energiser bunnies. They went to another break and Filthy looked on helplessly as his nephew started playing another song, oblivious that it was at an utter snail’s pace.

Golden brown, texture like sun

Lays me down, with my mind she runs,

Throughout the night, no need to fight,

Never a frown with golden brown.

Spider and Dawn were slow dancing to the song and Sally was looking around the club with a worried expression, grabbing a hold of Den and yelling something at him. Den pointed to the start of the corridors and Sally went bustling off, no doubt in search of Vim and Colin. Catflap, with an arm around Richie Rich, spotted the Outer Limits walking onto the stage for their act and made a throat cutting motion at them. Filthy hid behind Neil’s shoulder so Catflap on the warpath wouldn’t spot him. At the bar, Kevin, wearing earmuffs Dick had knitted him for his birthday, was stuffing his anorak full of straws by the handfuls until they almost overflowed down his front.

Richard Richard’s blood was still smeared all over the floor. No one could be bothered to clean it up.

All in all, another normal night at the Comic Strip.