The Discoteca

Satchel hobbles a little and steadies himself in front of a urinal relieved he wouldn’t have to use the sink. His ears are muffled with a weighty hiss and the walls vibrate with the beat. He lingers reading the slow witted writing on the wall. Luckily there are magazine cut-outs of some really attractive ladies, shapely and alluring. When zipped he still has enough sense to wash his hands and make note of all the guys who don’t.

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