"Lola, come here," she said. I walked over to her spot on makeup covered counter. She told me how she associated the smell of Chanel no. 5 with the smell of shit. I didn't need to ask why. A girl sprayed the famous designer's expensive scent in the tiny bathroom we all had to share. It was an everyday thing. I guess I don't have to explain why she did this. I will tell you that it didn't work. I would just giggle thinking of the girls too nice to say anything and the ones bitchy enough to do so. I just clopped away on my 8 1/2 inches, found the strings we called clothes in that place, put on a fake smile, and skipped onto the stage. I escaped the stink.

"Up next, we have the lovely Lola.."

Fuck you DJ. Shut up.

I left Lola at the club.
She never came home.
Unfortunately the smell of
perfumed shit did.