Dirty Drag

Published by Kyle Adams at Smashwords

Copyright© 2012 Kyle Adams

Smash words Edition, License Notes

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

“Motherfucker!” Ashley yelled as he stubbed his toe against whatever was carelessly discarded in the alley. It was too dark to see anything, even using his cell phone screen as a poor imitation flashlight. It was his third time walking through this alley. He knew the door was here somewhere; he’d spent hours researching on the internet for the perfect dive bar for tonight’s experiment. If only his research warned him to bring a searchlight to navigate through the musty alley. A nose plug wouldn’t have been a bad idea either, so he wouldn’t have to keep his nose pinched between his fingers to avoid the putrid smells of rotting trash and stale piss. Classy.

The small pub didn't have any signs, and the only entrance was an old steel door down a dark passage. Cliché as it was, Ashley wasn’t too worried about being stabbed by an unknown assailant lurking in the shadows; he was armed with a can of pepper spray and could scream like a banshee. If he didn’t find that damn door soon, he’d know every fucking pothole, rock, or piece of garbage cluttering the alleyway. Over ten minutes of searching and not a single person had come or gone from the bar. Ashley was going to find that fucking door, even if it took all night. He needed to go somewhere he wouldn't be recognized, and no one he knew would be caught dead in this shit hole. Fuck, after this he’d probably have to go home and burn his outfit for sanitary reasons before scrubbing his skin raw in a scorching shower.

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