Hello all ye reviewers who didn't review last time. I'm sorry about the misunderstanding with the name and all, I'm human, and not exactly talented at spelling. Have some forgiveness. To my two reviewers…

LyingUnder-BlueMoons—Thank you. And I apologize about misspelling Maureen's name. I seem to have read too much of Robert Jordan…

Queen of Doom—Thank you for your review and complement. And again, sorry about misspelling Maureen's name.

Life with Maureen was, how should we put his, interesting. Not only were she and pookie having a grand ole time staying up late, there was one bathroom in the loft. Sure, that wasn't good most of the time, but with a crazy woman, not the best of things for certain. On top of the bathroom and the late hours, there was the ever-present problem of oh, yeah, Maureen was crazy. A blast to be around at parties, a sure fire hit anywhere you went, especially if she was completely toasted, but crazy nonetheless.

Occasionally she would come back from one of those knock out parties completely wasted and would simply pass out on the floor. Mark would usually drag her to the room where they would make drunken love and officially gross out the rest of the population, but meanwhile, her underwear would mysteriously wind up on the counter. Roger wasn't quiet sure why, but for some reason, the underwear of a girl he wasn't sleeping with was unappealing.

In the world apart from Maureen, life was good. The gig was solid, people still came to see shows and every now and then you'd actually get a decently hot chick to sit in the front row. That girl from the show a month ago still came, but he could never find her after the show. This Cinderella was not leaving a glass slipper, and this ball was definitely not one for the faint-hearted.

Murray's, it turned out was a drug den, in a way. They didn't exactly advertise it next to the 'happy hour' sign, but if you wanted to get high, Murray's was the place to do it. They served mostly coke, and a whole lot of heroin. One of the bands that came brought ecstasy with them, and he could see them passing it around back stage to all of their little groupies. Once or twice he could've sworn he saw Maureen back there, but she was always back at the apartment making drunken love to her pookie. That was really disturbing.

Last night though, was different. The place was a mausoleum, and Roger soon found out why. A vice cop was in the audience, trying to sniff out drug users and get their dealers. The party was toned down as to not alert more undo suspicion. After all, they were a perfectly legitimate establishment, even if their clientele chose to dabble in something a little stronger than what was behind the bar. He could still here Jake's voice announcing them.

"Hello, Hello, people, and welcome to Murray's. To any cops in the audience, we would like to kindly point out to you that we are a fine drinking establishment. Now, to all you drug dealers, you better skedaddle before the cops here realize what a fool idea it was to come here in the first place," half-hearted laughter from this one as a few of the known drug dealers shuffled out quietly. The men in their cheap 'club-wear' remained, eyes on the stage like they were members of the audience, "okay, now please remain seated and keep your hands and arms inside the vehicle at all times, and say hello to Roger, and the band Queen Mary's Vengeance," as Roger got on stage he could see the gleam in Jake's eyes of glee. The man was playing a game.

Good so far? You think, how about reviewing? That would be nice.