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Two Girls Means a Pack of Trouble

"What you doing?" Aqua asked. She took the seat across from Max. He pulled the earphones out of their sockets.

"Listening to some Seventies music," he replied.

"You're so retro," she said with a smile as she brought the drink to her lips and sipped the sweet allure of alcohol as if for the first time.

"That I am," he said. "I'm a machine reborn."

"Too cool," Aqua replied, placing the drink down.

"You didn't get carded here, did you?" he asked her.

Aqua smiled that smile.

"Yo, Max!" called Angst as she strolled into the bar; she was an angel without wings, a bullet babe. She made heads turns as she strolled through the crowd.

Max nodded to her and continued to sip his pint. He was thirsty. He knew any moment now that trouble would be brewing, as he eyed the college frat boys chugging their drinks and giving him the glances. 

He was sitting with two young women. And this was stirring the patriarchal-possess-the-object-programming of the throng of groin-headed misogynauts.