And scurrying to the other side, and standing to find the window being level with my line of sight, I began to scan the club again, although, this time, from a new vantage point. The window permitted a quintessential view of the central stage, the two souls who occupied it, and the obstreperous crowd who rambunctiously cheered and stomped their feet at the literal hand of the man upon the stage. He, the man, assumed an awkwardly wide stance, and truly resembled an oaf in both stature and appearance; and with his barrel chest projecting towards the attendees, he continued to raise his right arm towards the ceiling, and began wafting his hand upwards as if he wished to further rile the crowd. His gesturing appeared to be in triumph, as he conceitedly smirked and revealed his dreadfully rotten and decaying fangs, and nodded his melon head in steady tempo. He began grazing his eyes form left to right amongst the crowd, and widening them for each of the next several seconds before vocalizing a soul shuddering, eerily deep …show more content…
His accent was one of unknown origin to me, although it was both intriguing and terrifying to equivalent extents; and as he refused to relinquish his death grip of the poor woman’s wrist in fear of, I supposed, her running away, he vigorously yanked her closer to his side. Silence punctually draped over the crowd, and they quickly assumed their seats while awaiting further, implicit, instruction from the large oaf of a man, who appeared to be their esteemed leader. “First, and most certainly foremost,” the lout began, modestly bowing before the men in attendance. “We, and especially I, would like to personally thank the host, of this beautiful establishment, for permitting our utilization of its spaciousness and beauty to hold our special event!” he paused, wafting his hand upwards as he had done before; and, coincidentally, the crowd followed suit by cheering and clapping their hands until the wafting, again,