Teft Rabinluch eased down onto the uninviting park bench. He tore off his shirt and tied it around his leg, forming a sturdy tourniquette, with the hope of stopping the bleeding. A crowd of about six people gazed at Teft from across the road outside the club they had just exited. The club was an "underground" club only in the physical sense, as everyone knew about it.
It was called "Teasies", which gave it the impression of being a strip club, but its entertainment was all quite tame, and businessmen and their wives were not an uncommon sight there. It had been a strip club a long time ago, but when the owner noticed that more people came on the nights when there was no stripping, the strippers had been told to not bother taking their clothes off. The name had stayed, since changing it would simply mean paperwork. The walls were done up with heavily laquered natural wood. The laquer was dotted all over with signatures and initials and various attempts at wit, all of which were read over and over again by the club's patrons. It really would've been a clever place to advertise, but the only things which were advertised on those walls were phone numbers of supposedly loose men and women. These items were even more commonplace inside the washrooms--male and female--which were decorated with the same over-laquered wood.
Therette--the owner of Teasies--could've stopped all of this nonsense at any time by putting up a few little paper signs, asking the patrons to kindly refrain from marking up the establishment, as the repairs would just go into the ever-rising price of the drinks, or other similar guilt tactics. The patrons were all quite loyal to the club, as part of a long standing tradition which simply did not exist in the other clubs. The regulars would always mingle with newcomers, and firmly state that this was the best club in the city. The newcomers would generally accept this as fact, and within months they were part of the welcome wagon. So, the patrons would've been more than willing to stop marking up the club, if Therette had willed it so, but Therette either thought it added atmosphere or simply didn't care.
The club was filled with people and talk and music and smoke, as always. A few people were dancing in the area which had become the dance floor more through natural evolution than official designation. The actual wooden floor of the dance floor was the same wood which covered the rest of Teasies, just a bit more worn through use. The band was named Sad something. Sad something was a French band which frequented Teasies. The actual name of the band was 'Sad Xeqxes', but no-one knew how to pronounce Xeqxes, so the band had simply become Sad something. Their lyrics were below nonsense, as they were meaningless chain of thought words written while drunk, which they sometimes translated into English, and sometimes left in French. The regulars made up their own words and sounds to mumble along with the songs, which varied in content depending on their level of drunkenness. The popular lyrics were usually far better than the band had originally intended, so they didn't complain.
The tables were the area where most of the club's clientele spent their time. The atmosphere of the area alternated from anywhere between upbeat and sombre, depending on how many of the overhead lightbulbs were functioning at the time. The table group was alright even when all the lights were gone, however, as they had developed extremely sensitive eyes with time. At the tables, they could sit and drink in seclusion, or order one of the light meals off the menu. The tables were where the newcomers generally came, so there were always a lot of conversions going on. A lot of Spanish people ate at the tables, so as they had become regulars, they had learned to speak English, and the other regulars had learned to speak some Spanish. Now, the two groups spoke with roughly the same accent.
At the bar, the bar crowd talked about the usual topics: their jobs, the sports scene, the economy and so on. No one was really interested in what the others were saying, but the conversation was easy to perform, as they had rehearsed it so often. Many newcomers found it charming and could pick up the simple talk within a few visits. The standard drink was an alcoholic herb extract which the natives called beer. The regular drink had been actual beer at one point, but that had stopped. No one had ever thought of a name for the new stuff, so they just called it beer. For the first while, the new stuff had tasted like garbage, made most of them violently ill and even killed off a few regulars. Those who had lived had adjusted, and now it tasted better than the old stuff. The regulars sometimes liked to joke around about the big change over.
This was the scene as the six regulars brought Teft down the wooden steps and set him down in a chair at one of the tables. One of them ran over to the bar and conferred with Therette for a moment before returning with a large band saw. Two of the men grabbed the saw on opposite sides of Teft's bleeding leg and pulled it back and forth between them until Teft's leg had fallen off, whereupon there was a large cheer from the clientele at the tables and those at the bar who had turned around on their swivel stools for the event.
Teft, on the other hand, screamed. It was a scream of bewilderment as much as agony, and it was quite pleasant to hear. Teft grabbed the man who had run for the saw and desparately yelled, "MY LEG!"
"Yes," replied the runner, slightly confused.
"YOU CUT OFF MY LEG!" Teft hollered.
"Yes... it was bleeding anyhow," said the runner, explaining his logic.
"Buh... buh," Teft mumbled, lost. "My leg... I needed that leg..."
"So grow another," suggested the runner.
Teft was shocked into silence.
"Go on. Grow another. It'll be better than that last one, chances are. Go ahead!"
The runner seemed insistent, so Teft concentrated on the area where his leg had once been, and willed the stump to become longer. The stump readily obliged, and within moments Teft was better than ever.
"There ya go," said the runner, and he walked away to join some friends.
Teft was amazed, although most of his audience had lost their enthusiasm. As he stared down at his old leg, it sprouted small legs and beautiful translucent wings and flew about the bar. It appeared to be trapped by the roof of the club, until it slowly developed large, sharp teeth, which it used to chew its way out of the bar and onward towards a better life. As Teft stared at the hole unblinkingly, the natural wood grew forth and covered the hole.
Teft ran out of Teasies screaming.