The scene opens in front of the popular dance and music club [insert name here]. It is around seven thirty—early for the club—but the line for admission is still wrapping itself around the block. The camera pans down the line, showing small groups of teens from all walks of life: candy ravers, Goths, freaks, preps, jocks, and even a few yo-boys. Towards the middle of the line, we see Bryce and his “friend” Meggy (yes, I know that she was originally supposed to be called “Shannon,” but I’m using her in another plotline.) standing patiently in line. Bryce is leaning against the club’s outer wall, bobbing his head to the music that is playing inside. Meggy is staring intently into a small make-up compact, refreshing her lipstick, fixing her hair, and primping in general.
Meggy shuts the compact and turns her attention towards Bryce. She stares at him for a few seconds, obviously annoyed, but he doesn’t notice. Finally, she clears her throat noisily, and he looks up, almost confused as to where that horrendous noise came from.
Bryce: “Is something wrong, hon?”
Meggy: “Don’t you ‘hon’ me, Bryce. We’ve been waiting out here for almost an hour, and we’re still not in. Why don’t you go the door, tell the bouncer who you are, and get us in already?!”
Bryce: (uncomfortably) “I don’t like to use my family’s name to get preferential treatment. We can wait a bit longer.”

Meggy pouts for a bit, but sees that he isn’t going to change his mind. She walks next to him, leans against the wall, crosses her arms, and fakes sleep.

The camera pans forward a bit and finds Ariel and Nydia, all decked out in “proper club attire”: sparkly tank-tops, vinyl mini-skirts, and chunky platform sandals. They are look a little cold, but are trying desperately to not show it. Nydia is skimming the crowd, looking for a familiar face. Her eyes light up, and she turns towards her friend.

Nydia: “Hey, there’s Bryce…and some girl…do you wanna invite them up to stand with us?”
Ariel: “I don’t know, Nydia. Would that really be fair to all the people who have been waiting in line longer than they have?”
Nydia: (rolling her eyes) “For one night, could you *not* be such a goody-two-shoes? Let’s just invite them up here.”

Ariel sighs heavily, then stamps her feet to keep warm. Nydia jumps up and down, waving her arms frantically. Bryce notices and waves back. Nydia motions for him to come up to where they are, and after looking at the moody Meggy, he nods and mouths the words “Thank you.”
Grabbing Meggy’s hand, Bryce ducks underneath the velvet rope dividing the throng of people from the street. They dart up to where the two girls are standing and duck under the rope again to join them in line. Several people behind the group make rude comments using words that shall not be repeated in this story line. Nydia turns around and glares into the crowd; they are instantly silenced. She turns around, grinning smugly.

Nydia: (to Bryce) “So how long have you two been waiting in line?”
Bryce: “Not that long. Only about half an hour.”
Meggy: “Try an eternity!”
Bryce: (sighing lightly) “Oh yeah, Ariel, Nydia, meet Meggy. I met her at a club in Baltimore a few days ago, and I thought she might like to see Dominica’s best band.”
Nydia: (to Meggy) “Have you ever heard of Demon Brownies? HFS plays them sometimes.”
Meggy: “I don’t listen to HFS much, but yeah, I have heard of Demon Brownies. My cousin’s boyfriend’s sister is going out with the nephew of the drummer’s friend’s aunt. So I usually end up going to all their shows.”

There is an odd silence as everyone looks at Meggy incredulously. The people of Dominica aren’t used to such big-city customs as trying to find a connection to everyone famous person who comes their way. She doesn’t notice the silence, but just continues talking.

Meggy: “Hey, look, the line is moving.”

The group turns towards the front of the line; sure enough, people are steadily moving in. In a few minutes, our protagonists (look it up if you don’t know it) are in the nightclub.

The music is loud, the bass is thumping so hard you can feel it deep in your spleen, and just about all the girls are wearing less clothes than the semi-cold night should have allowed. The small group works their way around the club, saying hi to familiar faces and introducing themselves to unfamiliar ones. This mingling goes on for about a half an hour, then the DJ lowers the volume of the music so that he can be heard.

DJ Amiga: “Hey everyone, get the hell up to center stage and check out my friends Demon Brownies, the best damn band Dominica has to offer!”
Some Random Guy: “That’s not saying much…they’re the only band Dominica has to offer!”

The crowd has a good laugh over this one, and even DJ Amiga manages a chuckle. The kids wander towards the stage and watch as the band sets up. The music continues to play, and the kids continue to dance. Finally, the band leader steps up to his mike, and without warning, screeches into it: “Heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeey everyone! Y’all ready to rock?!”

The crowd turns slowly towards him and starts to cheer, the DJ’s music forgotten. DJ Amiga stops his mixes and lets the band have the audience’s full attention. When he is sure that everyone is paying attention to him, the lead singer of Demon Brownies leans once more into the mike.

Lead Singer: “Hey everybody, I’m Tommy Crumbmaker. This bozo on second guitar” (he points to a medium-sized Asian kid with shaggy hair and glasses who bears a striking resemblance to David Alan) “is Dave Elon. The nerd on bass” (he nods to a skater-punk with short brown hair that is separated into clumps of spikes) “is Bryan Dexter, and the sexy Brazilian on drums” (Tommy doesn’t even look back towards a tanned South American guy whose nose seems a little too large for his face) “is Mark Pilipino. Separately, we’re the biggest bunch of losers and dorks, well, yours truly excluded, that Dominica has ever seen. Together, we’re Demon Brownies!!”

At this, the crowd goes wild. Chicks with a poor taste in guys cheer “I love you, Tommy” and other such nonsensical sentences. Tommy just takes this in stride; he loves himself almost as much as they do.
Grinning widely, Tommy turns his head towards Mark and nods. Mark hits his drumsticks together three times then begins to play. Bryan picks up the beat, then Dave follows and Tommy pulls a pick out of his pocket, preparing to play.

Tommy: (over the music) “This first song is called ‘Damn, I Love my Girlfriend.’”

He begins to play and starts to sing. While his speaking voice is almost annoying, he has a very nice singing voice. The crowd sings along at full volume and continues dancing. The camera pans the crowd—it catches Ariel dancing provocatively with Demetrius Johns, her back to his front, his arms caressing her stomach, one of her hands on his, the other stretched up around his neck. She may an “innocent” perfect student, but this girl lets loose during the weekends. The camera continues onward—Bryce and Meggy are dancing much in the same manner, although Bryce seems more interested in something (someone?) other than Meggy. The camera follows his gaze across the dance floor to find Nydia and Paul dancing and yelling comments to each other over the music. He has his arms around her from behind, and her hands travel from on top of his hands to gently tucking his hair behind his ears. Bryce has probably always been secretly jealous of Paul, but now, does he really have a reason?! (Of course not! This story in no way reflects real life. I had a plot in mind before Paul and I got together, and it’s staying that way still! Makes for more interesting story plots…just ask Ethan and Teresa!) Through use of microphones and other such amazing sound technology, we can hear about what Nydia and Paul are conversing.

Nydia: “Tommy doesn’t even realize that his fly’s open, does he?”
Paul: “Nope, that poor bastard doesn’t have a clue. I don’t think I want to be in the front row when his ‘fan club’ takes their tops off like they do at all of Demon Brownies’ shows. Good God, I hear he’s built like a horse.”
Nydia: (laughing) “Actually, I heard from Tina in my gym class that it’s quite the opposite. He talks big, but doesn’t quite deliver.”
Paul: (tickling Nydia) “Well, as long as you don’t find out from personal experience. I’d have to disown you as a friend.”
Nydia: (laughing and tickling back) “You could never disown me; you’d miss my momma’s cooking too much.”
Paul: (not laughing because he’s not ticklish) “True, but still, stay away from Tommy. He’s a jerk, and you’re too good for him.”
Nydia: “Oh, hush…like I’d ever get with him. He’s not my type at all.”
Paul: “Well, then, who is your type?”
Nydia: (shrugging) “I don’t know. I guess Bryce is kinda like the guy I want to date. You know, he’s cute, he’s funny, he’s nice, has a great car…”
Paul: (aghast) “No way are you that shallow!”
Nydia: “I was just teasing. But yeah, Bryce I guess is my type.”
Paul: “Then why don’t you ask him out?”
Nydia: “I don’t know. I guess I just never thought of him like that before. Plus, he probably doesn’t even like me like that. I’d feel like a real ass if I asked him out and ruined our friendship.”
Paul: “You ever think of dating me?”
Nydia: (turning slightly to look into Paul’s eyes) “Sorry, honey, but I could never date you.”
Paul: (not at all shocked, but curious) “Why not?”
Nydia: “Because it’d be spiritual incest—you’re like my brother, Paul. When we’d kiss, it’d be like kissing Jaime for God sake!”
Paul: (mock-hurt) “I’d like to think that I’m a better kisser than Jaime.”
Nydia: (laughing) “I’m sure you are, Paul. Now hush up so I can hear the music. They had better play their cover of ‘I’m Too Sexy.’ Tommy looks so…hilarious when he takes off his shirt as he sings. The day he realizes that he’s just an average-looking guy with a big ego is the day all laughter in the world silences.”
Paul: “Very poetic, Nydia. Are all Latina Lake Creatures as skilled in metaphor as you?”
Nydia: (smiling demurely) “Not all, just the ones in the Delmarva area.”

Paul laughs and they continue to dance as the band does indeed play its version of “I’m Too Sexy” by Right Said Fred. True to Nydia’s description, Tommy looks hilarious as he strips off his shirt and flings it into the crowd. Meggy catches it and giggle inanely. She looks as proud as a lioness who has just killed an exceptional zebra. (Ooh! Such wonderful similes! Why can’t I write like this for English class?) She rushes out of Bryce’s arms and joins the flocks of freshmen and sophomore girls who make up the Demon Brownies fan club. Bryce stands shocked for a minute, then accepts the fact that just about any weak-minded female can be seduced by a sweaty shirt and a One Hit Wonder. He saunters up to another blonde, tosses her a line, and she buys it. (He always goes for the really cheesy ones like “I know your feet must be tired, coz you’ve been running through my mind all night” because they make girls laugh, and girls love it when you make them laugh.) They start to dance, and Tommy wails “I’m too sexy for my shirt, too sexy for my shirt, so sexy it hurts” as the screen fades to black.

Nope, friends, that’s not all. Finally, the cliffhanger you’ve all been waiting for—straight from the writing section in my even-day notebook to the Internet…

Dirk kisses Dianne good-bye, then strolls to his car, whistling some tune from Gone from the Wind. He unlocks the door and gets in. He drives off, jazz music faintly emanating from his car speakers.

He drives down the hill on which the mansion is located. The drive home is uneventful. Finally, Dirk pulls into his driveway and shuts off his car. He steps out, nearly tripping over a black cat. Dirk grumbles as the cat zips away (also grumbling). Dirk strolls up to the porch, twirling his key chain, and stops in front of the small mailbox on the outside wall. He lifts the lid and empties the very full box, with some difficulty. Flipping through the contents while unlocking his front door, Dirk skims past bills, “Have You Seen Me?” cards, and the latest issue of Cosmopolitan. (The previous owner forgot to send a change of address slip to the magazine.)

He finally crosses the threshold and tosses his keys into a basket hanging by the door. He walks through the dinning room, tossing the mail onto the table as he passes. He enters the kitchen, unseen by the camera. The sound of the refrigerator door opening is heard, followed by the sounds of Dirk loudly chugging a beverage of some kind. He emerges drinking orange juice straight from the carton. He pauses briefly and wipes his mouth with his shirt sleeve. He pulls out one of the chairs with one hand, twirls it around, and straddles it, facing the table. He sorts his mail into piles while sipping from the carton. He puts all his bills into a pile on the left; junk mail goes into a pile on the right; the magazine is in front of him towards the middle of the table. All that is left is a small, plain white envelope without a return address on it. He picks it up quizzically, and drinks from the carton. Standing up, he takes the carton and letter with him.

The camera follows and watches as he puts the carton on the counter and tears open the envelope.

Quick cut to Dirk’s eyes, which are now have very dilated pupils. Beads of sweat begin to form on his forehead. His breathing and his pulse quicken.

Dirk: “Oh, shit.”

Suddenly, a loud banging is heard from the front of his house. His door breaks open with a loud crack, and angry footsteps can be heard approaching. Dirk drops the envelope and its contents. The camera watches as the two slips of paper slowly float to the floor. Right before the papers reach the tiles, a scream is heard and a sickening “thwack” is heard. Finally, the papers fall. On the little slip of paper is a black dot with the Italian flag drawn around the edges. The sound of a body hitting the floor is heard before the scene fades to black.