PMC: Pony May Cry

Dante couldn’t take the nagging feeling anymore.  The once familiar environment of a strip club now felt so uncanny and alien.  The clothes, what little were worn, were made with no skill whatsoever, the cider tasted like shit, and even seeing nail polish was a weird feeling.  Was this really his life?  Was this really all he did in this world?  Had he not learned better after so much time, that there was so much more he could do, so much better he could be?  No one smiled: fitting, given the environment, but it now felt wrong.  The patrons of this establishment were so cruel, much like the society that spawned them, and rarely spoke the truth, trusting no one.  Their greed knew no bounds, and their loyalty was sold so easily.  They were his kind of people.  He belonged with them.

However, it would be best not to think of such things on an empty glass.  “Bartender, another drink over here, and make it a double!”