"This is the last night," Clifford announced. "Then this particular nightmare will be none of my concern."

Angela smiled. "This was an interesting one," she said.

"Fuck, I want to do it again," Luci chimed in.

Clifford shook his head. "After the last week or so, I think we'd all end up in jail if we stuck around much longer. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have customers." He took a large, muscular mug of beer over to Javelin MacLain, who had been relegated to the shadows of the narrative but for a few deus ex machina events in the last few days. Along those lines, Javelin MacLain reached into his back pocket and pulled out a black velvet case containing three custom-made titanium alloy dart tips, honed to his precise aerodynamic specifications. They were indeed the finest dart tips ever crafted in the world. Javelin only used them for crucial shots in the World Dart Championship, or when there was a babe it was crucial he impress.

Carefully screwing them onto his flights, he took a deep breath, made sure his blood/alcohol level was about right, and stepped into postion in the men's room where he mentally pictured where the dartboard was and threw. The dart successfully rounded the right hand turn out of the bathroom, made the left hand turn around the bar to the dartboard and scored a neat triple-twenty. Two bulls-eye's later, Javelin was feeling satisfied and chugged a pitcher of beer in celebration.

Daphne Bloodwash-Stilletto, on a presumtive mission from some God, sat drinking red wine. She had received some bad news that afternoon. Her husband had escaped from jail and no one knew where he was. But there were more important things on her mind.

Clifford Godson had problems of his own. The police had been around earlier mentioning complaints about excessive violence, nudity and drug use at The Dirty Dwarf. Clifford promised he'd get a license for those things and post an NC-17 sticker in the window, gave them some beer and donuts, had Angela smile at them once, and they left happy.

Butch Stilletto first encountered happy policeman in the 'Nam, but his most recent experience with the law had made him forget that. At that particular moment, Butch and his newest bestest buddy and former cellmate and current lover Bubba Colossus were lying low in an Orange Blossom Trail hourly motel after their daring escape from the 33rd Street Jail.

Butch had come out of the closet shortly after he realized he enjoyed performing the unnatural acts that Bubba forced him to do as a way of passing time in jail. Their relationship had blossomed overnight, and they made a love pact to break out of jail and head for the Keys where Butch fancied that he could pursue his extremely latent fantasy of being Carol Channing and Bubba would pursue his less-latent fantasy of being Gladys Knight and The Pips.

The jailbreak hadn't been easy, as the electric toothbrush kept overheating and the paperclips couldn't pry loose the larger rocks. Bubba got so frustrated that he picked up Butch and used his head as a battering ram, smashing their way to freedom. Butch, however, was having second thoughts about their relationship as he assumed he could be the dominant one and also the severe head trauma he suffered made him think that he was receiving secret communications from the Mother Ship which had something to do with swamp gas.

None of this had the slightest impact on the patrons of The Dirty Dwarf, however, as Phlegm Smear stomped into the bar looking for Luci. "I want to see your tits one more time before I leave!" Phlegm demanded, causing Professors Klaus and Jerund to perk up with great interest.

Luci turned, ripped open her blouse, and said, "There. Bye."

Phlegm marched steadfastly towards her. "At midnight, Mountain Standard Time, I'm leaving for Salt Lake City with a group of loyal followers to start the world's first anti-Mormon Cult, dedicated to the principles of sex before marriage, excessive use of caffeine, tobacco, drugs and alcohol, and nude jogging through the campus of BYU! See this?" he said, pulling CD out of his cape pocket which instantly melted in his hands. "That was Donny and Marie's Greatest Hits! I have found my destiny."

Luci had to admit that she was impressed. It was a fresh approach to Devil worship... Innovative... A '90's kind of trend... She told him to drop his pants.

The sounds that emerged from the men's room can best be described as reminiscent of the classic dog fight scene in Old Yeller. Minutes later, they both emerged, smoking cigarettes and bleeding profusely, but pleasurably.

As the midnight hour approached, Daphne pulled the Rambo Replica Survival Knife from her burlap girdle. Breathing a sigh of relief, she focused on her target... the Messiah. Stealthily, she walked to the bar, planning to leap up on the counter and plant the knife in his medulla just as he bent over to pour a drink. She raised the knife for the killing stroke...

Clifford, unaware of this, simply put the Goliath Ale on a tray and took it over to George Phoenix who was in the usual dark corner of the bar. "How are you tonight, George? Any luck?" Clifford asked.

"Fine. No," he replied, unblinking.

Clifford nodded, took the empty glass, and turned to check on Professors Klaus and Jerund, just as the Rambo Replica Survival Knife plunged into the table in front of George Phoenix.

George turned to Daphne, unblinking, and asked, "Do you mind moving? You're blocking my view of the door."

Daphne pulled the knife from the table, and, with a hellish scream reminiscent of the irate mother from Alien 2 charged Clifford, knife held aloft.

Since hellish screams were so common in The Dirty Dwarf, Clifford didn't even turn his head. He bent down to pick up a napkin from the floor just as Daphne went sailing over his head and onto the stage.

As Clifford went back to his post behind the bar, Daphne struggled to extricate herself from the tangle of wires she'd just created. She was jerked to her feet by Luci Damian, Psycho-Grunch Bitch-Punk Demon goddess, who simply said, "If anything's broken, I'll bite off your left nipple."

Daphne, having no response to this, apologized profusely and hurried away straight into the waiting arms of Phlegm Smear, who unsnapped her bra, squeezed her right tit, and licked her cheek. Daphne, having no response to this either, stabbed him in the head and kept walking.

Phlegm checked for brain damage by making sure he didn't remember any of the multiplication tables. "Try that again and I'll braid your tits, you bull-dyke!"

Clifford turned to Phlegm and asked him to calm down.

Daphne seized the moment and lunged at Clifford, aiming directly at his heart. It surely would have been a fatal wound had not Marilyn Janice Snow, who was deeply involved in an argument with a busty Kampuchean figment about the price of rice in China, gesticulated wildly, hitting Daphne in the arm. The Rambo Replica Survival Knife plunged into Clifford's side. Clifford, surprised and in pain, turned to Daphne and yelled, "I'll be with you in a minute!" before passing out onto the bar counter.

Daphne, sensing that she was inches away from victory, raised the knife triumphantly, spouting a Bible verse appropriate for killing the Savior, as she prepared for the final blow. Suddenly the knife fell from her hand as a titanium alloy-tipped dart pierced her palm. She screamed in anguish as Javelin's last two darts pegged Daphne right between the eyes. She fell backwards onto the jukebox, dead, causing the sticky-sweet saccharin strains of Alan Gleem's "Sometimes Not" to tenaciously toddle out into the bar to deliver Daphne's eulogy for about 37 seconds before Luci glared at the jukebox and blew it and Daphne into complete obliteration, leaving only three titanium alloy-tipped darts and a smoldering Rambo Replica Survival Knife as evidence that Daphne ever existed.

Clifford regained consciousness just as Luci jumped up on stage, made sure her G-string was slightly sharp and all the amps were turned up to 10, and screamed into the microphone"It's not over 'til the fat lady blows up! This one's for all the good times, even where you fucking loser's were involved. It's called 'Party 'Til You Puke!'"

Drink lots of beer and piss out foam
Throw all the furniture out on the front lawn
Tell the neighbors to fuck off and die
Blow some chunks in their mailbox!

Party 'til you puke
Party 'til you puke
Party 'til you puke
Fuck you!

Drink tequila and woof your cookies
Fuck the girl that passes out first
Figure out the meaning of life
Then light some farts and ralph!

Party 'til you puke
Party 'til you puke
Party 'til you puke
Fuck you!

At this point, George Phoenix' eyes grew incredibly wide as another naked man with mediocre Caucasion genitals discreetly covered by a single stately flower approached his table.

"I'm George Phoenix," the stranger said.

"I'm George Phoenix," said George.

"We are genetic twins," said the stranger.

The seated George nodded. "I knew you'd come," he said. They stared at each other for a moment as Luci's guitar solo made Professors Klaus and Jerund's ears begin to bleed.

Without further ado, the seated Geroge Phoenix spontaneously combusted and the audience, thinking it was a pyrotechnics effect for Luci's guitar solo, applauded politely. The remaining George Phoenix calmly brushed away the ashes on the seat, sat down, and began sipping at the Goliath Ale on the table, unblinking eyes watching the door, as he waited for his genetic twin that had his same name.

Luci then smashed all her shit into total oblivion while the patrons of The Dirty Dwarf paid very little attention. In fact, most of them asked for their checks and left the bar.

Since things were slow, Clifford joined Luci and Angela at a table so they could chat. "You know Daphne was mine, Cliffy," Luci said smugly.

"Like I'd want her," Clifford replied. "Yes. It looks like a tie. This hasn't happened before."

"I guess you have to pick a winner," Luci said. "It's about time you got some balls."

Angela just smiled and had no particular comment.

Over at the bar, unbeknownst to the immortal trio, Marilyn Janice Snow looked into her glass and saw herself sitting at a bar, looking into a glass, seeing herself siting at a bar, looking into a glass, seeing herself...

Just before her brain exploded, she fell off of the bar stool and happened to glance over at Angela, who was smiling with no particular comment. And for the briefest moment, she could swear she saw God. Then she died.

"Angela wins," Clifford announced happily. "Let's get out of here."

"Not so fast," Angela replied. "Luci and I had a little side bet going... Right, Luci?"

"Fuck," was her only reply.

Moments later, Angela and Clifford were dancing across the empty floor of The Dirty Dwarf as Luci, dressed uncharacteristically in a flowing white gown with a high neck and long, flowing hair silhouetting a face with minimal makeup sang "Jesus Loves Me" in 3/4 time and hated every minute of it.

"Where next, Clifford?" Angela asked.

"I don't know," Clifford said. "Let's just hope that the next incarnation is as interesting as this one was."

"They always are," Angela said, clapping politely as Luci finished her song and her trappings of goodness burst into flames. "That was lovely, Luci."

"Brava," announced Clifford.

Luci extended her middle fingers and simply said, "Fuck you."

THE END .