The door crashes open, and a woman walks in.
"One for the dark trail ahead", she cues Robert.
He makes eye contact with this Goth mirror image of another more familiar to him.
He mixes the shooter drink from memory, tequila, rum, peppermint schnapps and a few drops of hot sauce.
"One Roadkill, Madam."
"Indeed, Robert. There'll be blood on the floor this night."
She lights the drink, snuffing the flame before any alcohol is lost to combustion, and quaffes it. The glass is sacrificed in a spray of shards, into the ceremonial firepit designed for such occasion with safety in mind....
"Sorry to dash..."
"But, of course..." demures Robert, flashing up a video
before she reaches the door.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yBZDTK9Yhko
Recognizing the song, the woman peels into laughter, blowing a kiss to Robert and a wave to the remaining patrons as she suddenly is gone....


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