as per usual, chuck is sitting alone at his bar. alone. drinking scotch. alone. in the dark. did i mention? ALONE.
from the darkness a harry winston ring box flies out and hits him on the back of the head. hard. hard enough to smash his lip into the tumbler he had been holding up to his mouth. glass cuts skin. karma. parallels. i'm brilliant. chuck whips around, lip and hand bleeding, as from the shadows steps BART BASS. the music swells. something sinister? or maybe that band that i read about on brooklynvegan.com? the audience gasps.