that sounds like theatre to me

the cafe was buzzing, brewing with activity of all sorts. the Chess club was making their moves quietly. Queen took rook and bishop caught knight. the White King was safe for another seven moves, but a Black mate was inevitable. the Goth club was discussing whether it's o.k. to pierce yourself in the morning when the sun was shining and the day was bright, "does this not contradict our entire belief system," said an old black cat in a monotone voice hoping not to be outcast for believing in something. "it's exactly what makes it goth," spoke the young girl in an unusually chipper voice highlighted by her black ponytailed hair. "who cares," spoke the voice of reason and truth in the group as he vanished from sight never to be seen again. on stage a group of a dozen artists read some Funny Valentine and the Endurance of this band of merry players was tested as the noise level in the place left little room to project a proper performance. in a better world we could have all sat around the same table and talked of things in common, but in the Mercury it was every man for himself and some of the women had to unsheath their swords. the ensuing battle was only ended by a 9 o'clock curfew, closing time they call it. where did the evening go? who knows...

"things done for gain are naught, but great things done endure." - Ernest Shackleton