Chapter 1 – Getting Behind the Holy Velvet Rope It came to me in a vision. Okay, well, I never really had a vision, but I did get really bored one day and started daydreaming… And lo, in the Revelation of Joy, at the end of days, there was a great expanse of desert, and the heat therein was immense. Behold, in the midst of the desert was erected a vast edifice, hewn from stone and glass, and it was…
Wait, this is 2012. Nobody talks like that. What I’m trying to say is… “What if Heaven was like the club?”
Uh-oh… Here she goes again… (*cue lightning and thunder in the distance*)
The world has ended and everybody who missed the rapture has decided that they will try anything that can make their ‘Left Behind’ situation better. A new club has popped up out in the desert. Rumor has it that it is hot fiyah seven days a week – if you can get into it. Apparently, people are willing to wait in line for days even though it’s hot as hell. It’s so hot that the hustle man won’t even sell bootleg CDs out there. Oh yeah, capitalism is real regardless of the rapture!
What I can’t understand is why someone thinks a club in the desert works when you don’t even TRY to make the patrons comfortable? I mean, even Disneyland has the little misting fans! Can a sister get a glass of ice water? The little ice cream balls??? Ugh! They are wrong for exploiting our willingness to stand in this long a$$ line!!! Oh yeah, I missed the rapture, as most of you have predicted for me time and again. And since I have nothing else to do in this ratched-a$$ world now, I went to check it out for myself. How else were you going to get this vision!?!
So anyway, everybody is waiting in line to get into the new club. It’s got this whole post-apocalyptic look and feel to it. The entire building is glass and stone, and the sign for the building is lit up in red rubies, “Purgatory.” Nice! Very clever play on the remote, desert location! You can hear music coming from inside, but you can’t see through the glass. Every now and then, you see folks tossed out the back door. (I heard the drinks were so strong that they are undrinkable. I ain’t scared though… I had Absinthe in Miami and lived to see the next day!)
Did I mention that security is absolutely ridiculous? Two giant, chiseled bouncers stand guard at the front, and they look as if they quit Hulk-O-Mania to take these jobs. *catches drool* The one on the left has a name tag that says “Gabriel” and the guy on the right says Raphael. Ha – cute – like the angels. This is some serious attention to theme and details!
It is hot as blazes, even in the middle of the night, and people are passing out in line while they try to get into this club? A few folks punk out and leave. Psst! They ain’t ‘bout this life! Then, a few other folks get rowdy and try to push past the guards. Bad. Idea. They get disappeared real quick-like. But I’ve been getting into clubs my whole life. If it’s one thing I know, it’s how to sweet-talk the bouncers. I mosey up to the front of the mile-long line and flash my “I Get What I Want” smile at Gabriel.
“Hi”, I say, and give him a flirty smile.
“What?” That’s all I get in reply, and he’s straight stone-face with it. Not to be easily deterred and figuring I still have more ammunition, I lean forward so he gets a little peek. Who doesn’t fall for the twins?
“So I was just wondering, you know, if there was like a special line for some people…?” I try to hint at the fact that I might be important and he should know I’m not supposed to stand in the “Get in free before 11 pm” line.
“Nobody is special. Back to the end of the line.” He is mean-mugging me like I stink.
“But I wasn’t at the end of the line. I was in the middle!” I protest with the cutest pout I can give.
“Then you shouldn’t have gotten out of line.” And with that, dude actually mushes me in the face! ME! Of all the nerve!!! Oh, I’m ‘bout to go OFF! I know somebody got that video on one of these phones!!!
But wait, there is more than one way to skin a cat, and I know I’ve got more game than this fake angel. Instead of the end of the line, I go around to the back of the building. There is only one guard back there. Nametag says “Michael.” Yeah, that will work. Even the real archangel Michael was a brawler, and he knows how to talk to people. I bet I can holla at him. He might be a little more susceptible to my ‘charms’. I roll up on Michael like I know him.
“Yo, Mike, whussup, kid?” I lean in and give him a hug, making sure to linger just one second too long.
“My name is Michael. What do you want, girl?” Michael is mean-mugging me too, so I drop the pretense.
“Look dude, I am just trying to get in the club. You know y’all are tripping because nobody is even in there – I know this trick. Ya’ll trying to wait until after 11:00 to let people in so you can charge an arm and a leg…”
“Really. So that’s what you think is going on here? I should throw you – “ Just then, Michael gets a message through his earpiece. He looks at me like he is thinking about fighting me, but then says, “Come with me.”
Yes! I’m getting in! Ha! Take that, fake angels!!! I go through the back door and then I see something amazing. The club actually IS full! The waitress staff is looking like a bunch of Victoria Secret supermodels with the wings and everything. (I’m getting a pair of those for Halloween!) But, I think they are still doing too much with the fake angel thing. Real angels wouldn’t have tig-o-bitties like these tricks. At that point, one of the waitresses turns and gives me a dirty look. I stare back at her like, “What!?!” She just keeps rolling with her drinks to a table. All of them are serving glasses full of … Is that sand? How did they get a drink that looks like sand? Neat special effect. Folks are milling around. It’s late so everyone is looking just a little bit desperate, like they are hoping to hook up with someone or something before they leave. Nobody is really dancing, even though I swear that is Lil Jon, T.I., Nelly and Swizz Beatz on the stage jamming. I follow Michael through the crowd. People are staring at me. Yeah, that’s right! I’m special! Hate all you want, haters! But then I look at their faces. I don’t see envy, I see suspicion. I see wariness. I even see pity on a few. Pity? Wait, is this one of those clubs where they infuse drugs in the smoke? What’s going on here? Man, VIP better be better than this!
Michael brings me to the back of the club, straight to the VIP section. I step through the drapes and come face to face with…
Dangit! My phone is ringing… Daydream deferred… I guess you don’t always get the vision all at once!!!
Volume 40 done, and I’m out – “and the rest will I set in order in 7 days.” In other words – look for Chapter 2 next Friday.