Down and out at the congal

It has not been easy to look in the mirror these last few days. My skin is pale and flaky, my eyes are sunken in from dehydration and the light stings when I flip the switch.
These are side effects of the terrible Typhoid Fever I have been fighting for just over a week now. Dizzyness and fits of bulemia are not uncommon. I spend most of the days in bed watching the sopranos and trying to figure out some kind of plan for when I get home.

So it was to my suprise, Wednesday night, when Juan popped into the room with a bag of coke and suggested we go to the strip club.
"Shit," I thought. "It beats lying here."
We were up and about in less than 30 minutes, our heads spinning with excitement.
We raced out the door into the car and down the street to some upscale place called Fiesta Charra VIP.

When we walked in, we were the only ones there, save some burnt-out looking dancers in the corner, sipping orange juice through a straw.
"Where is everyone!?" I exclaimed.
"Calm down," said Juan. "It's 8 o' clock on a Wednesday evening."
Ah, that's right. Sit down and enjoy the music. Feel the vibes. Fight the urge to leave.
Now. I cannot drink alcohol or soda or eat most foods right now, so I knew there was only one option.

I waved my hand at an obese stripper in the corner, who glided over on high heels and took a seat on my lap.
"Ready for some fun," she said.
"Fun?"
I stood up abruptly and she tumbled ot the floor.
I was in no mood for fun.
Juan grabbed me by my shirt and thrust me into my seat.
"Don't make so much noise," he said.

Suddenly, a strange looking old woman approached. She had the eyes of an eagle and the lips of a hippo. She spoke softly. My eyes went wide.

To be continued...