Dreamer:
A Shortie by Lone Wolf

~Are you ready to rock?!~

	The small bar was filled to capacity. It wasn't happy hour - that was 
at least two hours ago - and it wasn't ladies night - those were Saturdays. 
And yet, the bar was teeming with life. The bartender was clearly 
overworked, having to shell out beer, wine, and vodka at blinding speeds. 
Everyone was loading up for the show that was going to happen in five 
minutes.

	"Five minutes. It'll be the longest five minutes of my life."

	The bartender looked at his watch and smiled. "It's time!" He filled 
the last mugs of Budweiser and took his apron off. With amazing agility, he 
hopped the bartop and wedged his way through the crowd. On the other side of 
the bar, a small stage had been set up. It wasn't too big, so the performers 
weren't going to be able to move around a lot. He eventually made his way 
through the sea of fur and got up on the stage. "Can I have your attention 
please?" The room instantly fell silent. "Thanks. That's the first time 
that's ever happened for me. Now, I know you all came here for a reason. So 
let me make this quick. The Pub is proud to present, for your enjoyment, the 
local queen of punk rock..." His last words were drowned out.

	"Here we go!"

	Out of the shadows, right up to the mike, stepped a lioness. Her blue, 
spiked hair shot out wildly, as if to say "here I am, come and get me." Her 
tight, black leather outfit hugged her shapely body, revealing her long, 
awe inspiring legs and her slim, huggable belly, but still covered her 
enough to leave plenty to the imagination. Her red tinted shades were 
perched on the end of her nose. Her long tail slid behind her, ending in a 
blackish puff of fur. It snapped from time to time, probably due to the 
excitement. 

	She stared at the crowd with her brown eyes and almost blushed. 
"G'evenin' all!" The crowd responded to her sweet voice with a single cheer, 
then silence. They all wanted to hear her siren song. The lioness looked to 
her drummer and nodded. He smirked and tapped out the count on his 
drumsticks. One...two...three...he pounded at the drums, beating out a harsh 
melody. Her lead bass player waited a little before belting out chords to 
follow the melody. Slowly, the tune began to take shape - well, as far as 
punk rock shapes up to! All that it needed was for the other guitarist to 
start playing. He pushed a few buttons on the amp, caught the beat, and let 
his fingers do the rest. The seemingly harsh thunderclaps of the drums was 
instantly soothed into a more liveable, enjoyable melody. The lioness smiled 
to herself and took the mike....

	"Charlotte!" Somebody shook her gently.
	She swatted at the person blindly. "What?!" She cracked her eyes open 
and looked toward the intruder. Standing above her was the base player, the 
lightly built tiger known as Wolfgang. "Wolfgang!" She smacked him and 
covered herself up. "Why did you come in here? You KNOW I sleep in the 
nude!"
	He chuckled and rubbed the spot where her hand connected with his 
face. "I'm sorry. But you were doing it again."
	"Doing what?"
	"Having that dream where we're playing at a bar that's at capacity. 
The neighbors called and told me to shut you up."
	She sighed, sat up, and pressed her knees to her chest. "Everyone's a 
bloody critic."
	He chuckled and sat down with her. "Apparently. They just can't 
appreciate our contribution to the music world."
	She smiled. "You've always got the right words WG." She hugged him. 
"Call those bozos who called us up and tell them I'll try to keep it down."
	He smiled. "Good girl." He planted a kiss on her forehead. "Try to get 
some sleep. And please, if you must sing in your dreams, wake me up so we 
can jam together." He got up and bowed. "I bid ye a good night, m'lady." She 
laughed and tossed a pillow at him. He blocked it and bid a hasty retreat 
for the phone.
	She sighed and leaned back. "One of these days....."

End

Charlotte is © Chad Burbidge