On a Friday night

I took the big black car down the Strip, and told it to turn left on Lonely Street. Down past the Atomic Taco, you go through this parking lot and down the alley and there's a place called Klub Krazy. The big robobouncer glared at me with his red laser eyeballs, saw my diplomatic immunity, and waved me through the green door. Carefully I went down the four steep steps into the very heart of darkness. On the stage, a lone barstool and the microphone sat in a hot white spotlight. I found a table, and a long tailed blond vixen came to take my order.....rum-and-cola, twice, and some of the famous deep-fried battered beet slices, por favor. I lit up a Balkan Sobranie, and eye-balled the dregs of the galaxy that had settled to this low point, along with my poor self. Luckily, it was too dark to see them very well. Somewhere in the smoke and murk on one side of the stage, someone hit a double rim-shot, and the maestro entered the spot, to introduce what we were all here for.....