Place: Madame Keeri's Karaoke Bar

Time: 23:23 (11:23 pm)

Status: Anti-sober

Under the dull lights of Madame Keeri's Karaoke Bar sat three tired, drunk girls. They were leaning on the countertop and each other to keep themselves from falling to the floor, a mere two feet below. However, when you have consumed the amount of alcohol that they had, the floor is a much farther and less steady a surface then you could remember the couple hours before. They had come to the conclusion that the only way to save themselves was by drowning their self-pity and anger in the bottom of a 4 oz vodka bottle (among others), but, as we all know, self-pity and anger are both very strong swimmers, and do not drown without a fight.

It was a sad sight.

They had come together under the dull lights of Madame Keeri's Karaoke Bar for one reason; to bitch about their lives, again. They were regulars here; Madame Keeri knew them well, and tended to give them a few free drinks to help them forget their lives for a while. She liked the girls, and recognized the pain they were going through. She, herself, had gone through far too many poor relationships to not sympathize with the girls.

To the left of the trio was a young, tired looking blond. Her hair often contained two braids joined in the back, and she was fond of twirling a few strands around her left index finger. Tonight, however, her hair was matted and unkempt, a spray of indifference covering her head. It hung in her face and in her eyes, blinding her already anti-sober sight.

"I hate him," was all she said, her voice showing her level of anti-soberness, as well as her sorrow and anguish. Tears formed in her eyes, and within a few moments, she burst out in miserable sobs.

In the middle was a raven-haired girl, and she nodded in a sympathetic but somehow sluggish way. "I hate him too," she said, her voice slurred and mispronouncing. She paused for a moment, then asked, "Who do we hate?"

Suddenly ceasing from her tears, the blond replied, spitting the word with a near-toxic level of contempt, "Heero."

"Oh," said the raven-haired one, reaching across the bar to grab hold of a bottle of a nameless drink. "Then never mind, I thought you meant someone else." She tipped the bottle back, hoping that the majority of its contents would reach her mouth before spraying over her clothing. It didn't, but she didn't seem to mind as much as she thought she would.

"Who did you mean instead?" the third girl replied, regaining consciousness from the four shots of tequila a few minutes ago, lapsing from the earlier conversations completely.

"Duo Maxwell," the raven haired girl said, attempting to mimic the first girl's contempt.

The third girl nodded her head in acknowledgement, an act so deadly to her anti-sober and tequila-stricken mind that it hurled her into a state of vertigo, sending her reeling to the ground. She landed with a chaotic thud, giggling at the sight she thought she saw that was her falling. Her pale blue eyes were unfocused and mischievous, showing a rare phenomenon that was called, 'cheerful Dorothy'.

It was, indeed, a sad day in the universe.

"Well I don't care," said the blond, suddenly remembering the fact that her name was Relena, "I don't, not if you're mad at Duo; Heero's the real bastard." She attempted to pound her fist angrily on the table, but managed only to make her hand hurt really really bad.

From the floor back onto her stool crawled Dorothy, giggled profoundly at something unknown to this world. "Doodoododo," she hummed charismatically, an act she would regret in the morning. "Come on Hilde, Relena. Ka-re-oh-kee! Sing sing sing," she chimed, her face broken into a wide smile.

"Can't," replied Hilde, her voice filled to the brim with sarcasm, "Duo hasn't given me permission." She spat the last word angrily, her face scrunching into what she hoped was an angry look. "I feel like he's taking me for granted. I end up always doing the dishes, always doing his laundry, always cleaning up after him; he doesn't even acknowledge all I've done for him!"

Relena crossed her eyes for a moment, hoping that, even for a glimpse of a second, she could see herself. It didn't occur, so she turned to face Dorothy. "It's gotta be a good song, otherwise I'm too angry," she responded, managing to sound half as angry and twice as melodramatic as she really was. She pulled the whisky from Hilde and poured it facing her mouth, but found the bottle empty. She sighed and continued, "I mean, what the hell does it take to get Mr. Yuy to actually notice me? I mean, I'm not ugly am I? At last count, I was pretty…"

"Fabulous," Dorothy said, sounding not thrilled or entertained at all. She swung her hands to an invisible beat that only she could here. "Lately I feel like Quatre can't make a decision for himself, he's always gotta check in with me."

"Well I say we get rid of our guys," Hilde said, inspiration striking her as quickly as her hangover would the next morning. "We can live on our own, without them. We did it before they came along, right?"

Dorothy appeared, as always when she was anti-sober, amused. "I love Quatre, but could live without him. He's just so…clingy. I can't handle a guy who can't stand up for what he believes in."

Relena stared fixedly on the bowl of peanuts near the end of the countertop. She replied suddenly, "Heero is always saying to me 'Omae a kurosu -Death Glare- die'. I mean, enough talk, more action! Do it or stop saying it!" She banged her fist pointedly on the table, managing to injure it once again. Suddenly she burst into tears, her voice cracking and pained, "Look at ME!" and slumped into a pose of absolute sorrow onto the countertop.

"The boys have to realize we're people too; they are not in total control of our lives," Hilde said, grabbing a new bottle and pouring the malt whiskey into her mouth.

Dorothy giggled. "Giiiirls," she said, her voice containing a playful, singsong tone. "I know a song to sing, I know a song to sing," she chimed, her face still broken wide into a grin. Before the girls could respond, she stood up and ran to the stage, flipping through the choices of songs they had. After a couple seconds she shouted "Its here! They have it! Get up here Relena; Hilde; we have a change of lifestyle to put in motion." She grabbed the microphone, stretching out its cord so it would reach to the top of a nearby table, from what she was standing on.

"Girls, it's time to make a stand! Cry out for your independence as a woman in this beautiful country!"

Perhaps it was because there was a sense of hopefulness in Dorothy's voice, perhaps because they were so desperate for a change; perhaps because the alcohol they had consumed felt like partying, but whatever the reason, Hilde and Relena agreed. They stumbled their way across the room, stopping every once and a while to regain their balance from the spinning floor.

"Okay, what's the song?" Relena asked, excitement rising in her voice.

Dorothy grinned and replied, "Leslie Gore, of course." She pressed the button, and the music began. She held the microphone in front of them so all could reach and sing into it.

As if by magic, they had regained a sober level high enough to harmoniously recount the song.

"You don't own me, I'm not just one of your many toys…"

From behind the countertop across the room sat Madame Keeri herself, smiling at the drunken, hope-filled sight that was the three girls. They reminded her so much of herself as a young girl that she found herself longing for her past, the first time in oh so long.