The smoky husk of the pool den enveloped the man as he opened the door to a different Friday night. The creatures inside presented different arrays of beings to the usual occasions of his end week outings. The burly Sasquatches had markings all over there bodies and nearly all inhaled poison sticks to give an even worse stereotype to their look. He sat keeping the shiver from his body at the bar ordering a rough and burly ale to make him seem at least a little gruff to these monsters. He sips his drink, bit by bit, trying not to look like he hates the vile brew that was served to him. The atmosphere was dim only, the music only added to the grungy effect. The man didn’t know what to do, leave? Or the regular talk to the locals? The latter seemed to attract his likings more than the predecessor. He made his way across the barricade of human specimens, to a new sort of broad, different to his normal crop. Opening the night with a casual remark, to be accompanied by a gentlemen no way smaller than at least 6 foot. His build uncommentable on.

The man now sweating profusely trying to find a desperate distraction to the now awkward void that was the suppose to be the opening to a good night, takes a hefty drink of his ale to have the bitter and pungent taste overwhelm him and spittle a bit back into his beer’s container. The companion of the brood acquired a pool stick from a nearby table pointing the tip at him, shouting abuse and a blur of violence in the effect of his removal. The man feeling victimised was in no place was to dispute this brute as he was twice the size of the man and by the looks of it, the den supported the monsters decision. The man was surrounded by a battlement of unfriendly faces scowering at him. Since when did places like these become so secluded? Can’t randoms enjoy drinks at anywhere anymore? The man backed away from the pool tip slowly but the rage of the beast seemed to insatiable for just a threat. A slash of the cue came towards the man but with the reflexes of his a sway to dodge left the man behind him with splinters lying in his cheek. A steam just seemed to bubble out of his skull, a hasty punch swung towards the cue whacker left him dazed on the counter. An associate of the punchee stepped into the mini brawl and after that the place seemed to erupt into a furious chaos. Was this a usual happening? People around him being attacked violently with bar side weapons. The man Cooley picked up his beer and walked towards the exit. A cigarette lay lit on a table, picking it up he took a puff, he choked and threw it aside. But man did he feel cool.