Shannon: Just get inside, Tony.

No, don't dance on that!

We're in the entrance hallway of LaBare Florida in Miami, just following Tony's altercation with two burly members of security outside of the club. An inebriated Tony Santos had barely managed to make it past the neon lights of LaBare without mixing his teeth with the gravel, but, thanks to his ball of femininity that he happened to call his girlfriend, he was able to make it past a seemingly inevitable beatdown and in for some saucy dance action. Now?

Tony was grinding against a life-sized cardboard cutout of a large man in a Speedo.

Odd that a club would place that in their hallway, though Tony, but, who cares! The party was just starting in this new city of his, and he wanted to experience every bit of it!

Oh, and would he...

Santos: Babe! They have glow sticks!

Tony sticks his right hand inside a black, plastic bowl, which is dangling from a chain connected to the ceiling. He pulls out four glow sticks; two for Shannon and two for himself. They take one pink and one black each, in line with the signature colors of the club. Shannon immediately places hers in her pockets, not wishing to flail around glow sticks, but Tony? He's having a blast, swinging them around like a kid with newly minted nunchucks. However, Tony looks down at his "tools" for lack of a better word, and frowns. Squinting at the object in his right hand, he looks a bit confused.

Santos: Are these? Dicks?

Tony looks away for a moment as Shannon watches in amusement. He turns back toward his glow sticks, and, yup, they are, in fact, penises.

Tony does a double take. He looks at the picture that he was just grinding up against. The penises in his hand. The thumping dance music and girlish screams behind the door that he was about to enter. Then, a line that Shannon had uttered outside of the club to save Tony from an utter beatdown and allow them in to the club popped in to his head...

(10-26-2013, 08:12 AM)Tony Santos Said: Shannon: It's a hole, I'll tell you. We finally found the opportunity to leave that city, and we're now in paradise! Please, gentlemen, don't take that away from us, not on account of him. Plus, how many guys do you get in this place, anyway?

Tony looks down at the floor, then slowly raises his head, a thousand mile stare on his face, as his eyes pierce through the pink wall ahead of him and he considers the grave mistake that he's made in not doing some research on local "establishments" before making plans.

Santos: I'm in a god damn male strip club.

Shannon smiles a smile much larger than she'd smiled in a long time. She was getting that "upper hand" that she always liked having on Tony, and she finally had an opportunity to look down on and witness the discomfort that Tony would be experiencing. However, just then, Tony smiles.

Santos: Fuck it, let's have some fun!

Shannon's smile vanishes as Tony kicks open the large, black door in front of him barreling his way in to the club. Inside, it's dimly lit, with neon lights of pink and green flashing in turn. Inside, three male dancers hit the stage, the two black men on the ends, affectionately named Jaguar and Hova, are flopping their junk around to the gaga women lining the dance floor, while the dancer in the middle, a man by the name of Rocco, invites some eager 40-somethings to lick whipped cream off of his wing-wang.


Rocco

Santos: No! Those women cannot have sexual contact with his penis! He looks like he has down syndrome, for Christ's sake. He'll pass it along to each of them!

Tony, appalled by this down syndrome "disease passer-onser" (his words), makes a beeline for the middle of the dance floor.

Shannon: Tony, down syndrome isn't a communicable disease! Oh, fuck it.

Tony catapults himself off of an open stool next to the dance floor and drop kicks sweet Rocco in the gut. The whipped cream can in Rocco's hand goes flying backwards as Rocco hits the floor with a loud thud. His head, having bounced off of the stage with the impact of a bowling ball getting dropped from an overmatched toddler, gets rocked to a serious degree. The female onlookers shriek in horror as Jaguar and Hova take fall backwards in surprise.

Hova trips over the steel rail at the edge of the stage and collapses on to a bunch of pleasantly surprised Miami females. Jaguar, the most muscular one of the group, also has a fantastic center of gravity, so he manages to stay on his feet. Jaguar, a true professional, attempts to keep the show going while also embarrassing this unwelcome guest, whipping his dreads in to Tony's face...


Jaguar

...and Tony stumbles backwards. Offended by this showing of disrespect, Tony, always cognizant of his fantastic head of hair, takes this opportunity to flail his own hair back in the face of Jaguar. Back and forth, back and forth!

It's a god damn hair fight!

However, the madness soon becomes more predictable as Hova emerges from having his body yanked and grabbed at by the oblivious female mob below and attacks Tony from behind.


Hova

Grabbing Tony by the neck, he begins to cut off the air from Tony's brain. Tony, overwhelmed by the fact that, yes, muscular male strippers can actually fight and are not solely eye candy, falls to the ground in a crumpled heap. Hova, unrelenting, continues to choke Santos as Jaguar pummels Tony's ribs with sharp elbows. The women around the stage back up and scream in unison as they witness the potential murder of a fully clothed man by two strapping, 95% naked men. The security forces emerge from the corners of the room while the others at the door do so as well. Making their way in to finish this mess once and for all, the two burly men from outside climb up on to the stage, ready to pounce. The others surround the area so as there could be no escape.

Hova and Jaguar smile as they motion for the security forces to come closer. Rocco is still on the floor, woody and all, out like a light. The men lift Tony to his feet, and the door man, fed up with Tony's behavior, balls his hand in to a menacing fist. Smiling, he whispers in Tony's ear...

Door man: I'm gonna uppercut you back to Boston, pretty boy.

The door man cocks his arm back like a slingshot, ready to knock Tony in to oblivion, when...

*PSSSSSSSSSS*

The door man falls backward in pain, covering his eyes.

Door man: Oh my god! My eyes! Fucking Jesus Christ, they're burning!

A cloud of pepper spray consumes everyone in the fracas, seeping in to their eyes and nostrils, making it impossible to breathe or even concentrate on anything other than what feels like the melting of their faces.

Tony drops to the ground, rolling off to the side as Hova, Jaguar, and the entire set of security detail drop like flies. The female spectators sprint for the doors, some already on their cellphones, on the line with 911, hoping to get rid of the two psychopaths that have made their unwelcome presence felt during this fine evening.

The cloud of pepper spray slowly dissipates. The men, still writhing in pain, are helpless to do anything other than squeal like schoolgirls. Tony, having only been hit with a trace of the substance, rubs his eyes and slowly crawls across the floor to Rocco. Seeing Rocco laying there, completely and utterly motionless, whipped cream can off to the side, his untouched dong laying, now flaccid, Tony smiles.

Santos: You won't be harming anyone with your down syndrome anymore, stripper boy. Enjoy waking up in a hospital with traces of whipped cream on your dick and a total lack of self respect, you schmuck.

Shannon: Tony! Let's get out of here before the freaking cops show up!

Santos: Eh, alright, alright.

Tony makes it to his feet. Dusting off his black t-shirt and jeans, he begins to make his way across the stage. However, just then, Tony hesitates. His eyelids narrow as he turns back to Rocco. He looks to his left, then to his right. All of the employees lay on the ground, still in pain, still too weak to do anything to stop the mischievous acts of Tony Santos. Tony smiles as he loosens his belt buckle.

Walking over to Rocco, Tony places himself over Rocco's face. Tony looks to drop his pants, but stops himself. Instead, he pulls out the pink and black penises from his pockets and... proceeds to teabag Rocco with the balls on said glow sticks.

Santos: You're not worthy of my ball sack, you sick, sadistic fuck! Taste some glowing scrotum, you shit! Now go to a doctor and get yourself treated for your down syndrome before you harm any more innocent people!

Shannon: Tony! Down syndrome is not...

Shannon raises a hand and waves off Tony as she leaves the club, now considering drowning herself in a bathtub.

The scene fades to black.

September 2013 and May 2019 Star of the Month
1x Hart Champion
1x Television Champion
1x Xtreme Champion