Fabo Cann awoke just after two am, having had a sex dream that compelled him to get dressed and walk the two blocks to the Smilin’ Strippah, which was open 24 hours a day.
It was Thursday, so the place was quiet. He knew that only two girls covered the weekday, overnight shifts; this week they were the one with the freckles and the one with the small boobs. That was ok. This night, Fabo Cann wasn’t fussy.
They didn’t strip all the way down, but for ten bucks they would give Fabo a flash. He ordered a rum and coke and settled into a metal chair facing the runway, across from what appeared to be a foursome of drunken college boys.
The freckled one was doing her best to slither up and down the pole seductively, and pretending to revel in the attentions of about eleven people, most in dark corners. Only Fabo Cann and the college boys occupied “front row”, well-lit seats.
The rum and coke was eighteen dollars. Fabo Cann would nurse it. He didn’t require a lot of alcohol to have a good time.
At the moment, what seemed to Fabo Cann to be a good time would be to punch the blonde frat boy with the gelled hair styled into short spikes, in the face. He was irritating. Sloppy and disrespectful to the freckled one, who was no particular friend of Fabo’s but whose honour it now seemed important to defend.
So Fabo Cann waited until the gelled fratboy got up and headed to the toilets. He waited outside, and when the gelled one appeared Fabo indeed punched him in the face, then was winding up for a good kick in the ribs when the guy’s three friends arrived.
Fabo Cann felt the manager of the Smilin’ Strippah could have intervened sooner; but in any case the damage was moderate and not severe, because of the intoxication level of the college boys.
Fabo stumbled along the sidewalk, a wad of paper towelling held to his nose. The streets were empty and the street lamps made pools of sickly yellow light on the pavement. He reached his apartment building, but instead of going up he made his way between two buildings and crossed a back alley which lay behind a strip mall, which had an all-night drive-through.
Fabo Cann fancied a chocolate milkshake. Now, the drive-through rules forbade foot customers. That was too bad. Fabo Cann was not currently interested in rules and desired a chocolate milkshake.
If he had to fight somebody to get one, so be it.