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October 15, 2007

Tanya: Untitled

“You can ask any sailor, and the keys from the jailor,” she sang quietly, applying her mascara.

This outpost was so far beneath her, but they’d scraped up the cash for one show. Naturally, she resisted, until her agent threatened to fire her. Bitch. This joint always gave her nightmares. And they never had champagne. Not even the synthesized crap.

“And the old men in wheelchairs know… God, I hate that song.” She glared at herself in the mirror. “You’re already here, Lex. Just get it over with.” She slipped a knife into her garter and headed for the bar.

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Comments

I get that damn song stuck in my head any time one of you mentions the theme. Just thought I'd give it back.

Posted by: Tanya at October 15, 2007 11:57 AM · Permalink

Hey T, good stuff today. Good use of lyrics, too.

Posted by: Ted Bronson at October 15, 2007 4:54 PM · Permalink