The
Bad End wasn’t the sort of dive most folks went to already
hammered. The joint, nestled amid the brownstones of the buildings
beside it, a nest tucked away down a set of concrete steps sunk into
the pavement out beside the building, neon sign flashing overhead,
was never short of carousers. Grabby-handed revellers, rubbing and
grinding or looking for something to squeeze whether it be soft or
firm, were certainly not unknown to the club. Heck, they were
celebrated, especially on hot, muggy
Scott's Last Performance
By: Belloc
Favorited: 4 years ago