Here is a list of things I said to the doorman:
C’mon, man, it’s getting late.
Just pretend you didn’t see.
Ok. Ok. I get it.
Forget this shit-hole, I’m leaving.
He looked at me, and said sorry, sir, but this is a private club.
He looked through me, and said come on mate, don’t try me.
He stuck out his arm, as I tried to squeeze past.
I waited another hour, as more slipped up the ladder and sat, watching the skies.
I walked, and I wondered “What are they doing up there?”
Hoping for some flash of inspiration, some shadowed insight.
I walked, as I wondered, and thought of the question I should have asked
“How do I join?”
Written for this week’s Friday Fictioneers, with additional prompts from
Comments and criticism always welcome!