Ask Me Your Questions, I Know The Answers [OPEN]

[ZIPPY JUNE MCKENNA]

we fight through the hurt
and we try, and try, and try !

"Shit." Zippy murmured as struggled to reach out across the black table in the dimly let room. Shadey enough as is, then again it *was* the sixties. There were people seated on a rather worn looking couch, others were milling about (smoking, chatting, the like), the only lights were some poorly placed and even more poorly energized lamps. It was the backroom of a modest English club. Various acts had performed this evening which was how Zippy had managed to find her way to the venue. A couple of her friends from bands that she had filled in for had spots. But midway through she had lost interest, if she heard one more cover of the same Dylan song she was going to off herself, and she found herself being escorted to the backroom where she partook in what most people in her age and profession tended to: Drugs and alcohol. Which is currently what her reaching battle was over.

She had of course taken part in a few rounds of 'pass the joint'. Some other random people had taken to snorting coke right off the table but intaking something via the nostrils had never really appealed to the musician but for some reason inhaling was perfectly ok. Had she been more active, before she tried the joint, maybe she would have participated but weed tended to mellow the often highstrung and very active young woman out which was why she currently sat on the floor and struggled, wiggling her fingers doing her darndest to reach for her beer bottle.

"C'mere you." She coaxed as if the brown bottle was a puppy dog staring her down. Maybe if she spoke gently enough it would get up and toddle to her. Of couse everyone was just as inebriated via drugs or alcohol as she was so they paid her behavior no mind. That or they were just plain used to it. "You get over here you... I want you." Yes, mellow indeed. Perhaps that was a good thing. At least she wouldn't be down people's throats about being fake, or stupid, or whatever was her kicks that day. One of Zippy's main faults was how damned blunt she was. Luckily in England people seemed to relate it to the fact that she was American and not that she just wasn't a desirable person which, in the long term, was probably a good thing because Zippy McKenna was a good person. Plenty of people knew it despite her mouth.

"I ain't gonna hurt ya... Just drink your insides." Continuing to reach she gave a pitiful little whimper and felt herself slump some her chin now ontop of the black table. Big chocolate brow eyes stared at the bottle that now seemed WAY too far away. LEAGUES. "Please?..." She pouted. So very unlike her unless she was kidding. Perhaps she was just thirst.

All hope was lost... For the night at least.

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NOTES: Zippy's being a tool. Someone help?
WORDS: No idea.
OUTFIT: Probably something that doesn't match.
LYRICS: 'Are We Human Or Are We Dancer'-The Killers
TAGGED: Open. I'm open to one on one or multiple.

CREDITS: KITTYKATS of caution 2.0 made
this template, Images were provided HERE

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