Due to problems posting the down and dirty women's brawl, let's try this more accurate photo:
That night, I learned Scorpio is a full-blown alcoholic who'd traded me down for Methie. I know, right? It's as though he took a sudden, everlasting bungee jump with no bounce-back-up factor. And there they sat snuggling in a booth by the stage. My ego disappeared while a medium inferno raged through my 4'8" frame.
"Let's dance, Robyn." Brandi nudged, distracting me. I readily agreed. When I boogie, I'm good. Great even, alive, free, in control, on top of the world. Brandi and I smiled at each other, and I did some twirling when --
My spinal cord jolted in sync with a shrill. "By the way!" Methie shouted, having charged at me from behind, "He broke up with you after only three weeks!" She then dashed across the floor and into the women's room on the other side of the club.
I looked at Brandi: "That does it!"
Seconds later, I stood facing a bathroom stall door. Seems Methie needed to pee. I let it flow too: "You're an ugly alcoholic drugged-out pothead skank, and he didn't even have the balls to break up with me. Why would he go for you? You're so ugly!"
Done. But not really. I marched out to Scorpio --still sitting wasted at the booth. "Your new girlfriend is out of control!"
Scorpio grinned proudly, thrilled to defend Methie. "Well you, you leave uh-her alone!"
"You didn't even break up with me, and you go to HER? Why would you go for someone so ugly?"
"Oh...y-yeah?" he fumbled. "Why would anyone go for someone so" --Scorpio pointed at me-- "ugly?" He then concluded with, "F*k off and die!"
"Get help," I snapped and turned to find Brandi.
She was dancing, this time with a few friends. "Are you okay, Robyn?"
"Yeah, a little shaken," Breathe, I told myself. A foot stomping harmonica-vocal beat enticed me the moment I caught eye of a tambourine on a nearby table. (People leave instruments around for others to use.) I picked it up. As I began gently slapping the tambourine against my upper leg, Methie's hands were locked on it.
"Don't you dare touch my tambourine!" She pryed it from me. Methie placed the tambourine back on the table. She came at me again, this time sort of yanking on or grabbing my arm. It was like a toddler meagerly pulling on Mommy's sleave to say "I'm here. Be scared or maybe not."
I then (in self-defense, of course), extended both of my arms directly in front of me, with raised palms towards her, and forcefully pushed Methie away. Brandi jumped between us. "Stop it! Enough!"
A cute young bouncer, not much taller than 5'2", appeared. "Look, I didn't see what happened, but no more fighting."
Within a minute or two, a semblance of calm resumed. But then some words rolled off my tongue loudly: "She slept with Charlie*!"
Methie, who was now a yard or two away, as Scorpio remained seated in drunken oblivion, defended. "That's not true."
"The whole town knows**!" I added.
Things soon settled down. I'd run out of ammunition. Methie and Scorpio resumed their snuggle-fest. Brandi and I departed. And I'm avoiding that place.
There's more, but we'll stop here.
*Charlie is an alias for a well known staffer at the club. I'd learned from a friend that Methie boasted about having had a fling with him. It was golden information that just kind of slipped out. Oops.
**I tossed this in for fun, and because - thanks to me - the whole town knows now.
