Alice in Hollywood

Alice was awakened by a large, hairy man, yelling at her to get out of his doorway. She groggily threw the garbage bags off her and stumbled off into an alley. Tying her greasy strands of blonde hair into a lopsided ponytail, Alice rubbed her eyes and finally took notice of her surroundings. Home sweet home, she thought to herself sarcastically. Her head began to hurt, waves of pain splashing against the insides of her skull. The downtown slums in Hollywood were beginning to stir as the sun approached its peak. Alice squinted her eyes and rubbed her temples.

"Shit. I need something," she muttered.

"Excusez-moi? Was that a cry for something from favourite dealer a toi? Simply say the word, Aleece, and I can hook you up," a voice tinged with a transparent French accent called from behind her.

"Screw off, Pete! Who the hell do you think your fooling with that stupid accent? Besides, I got no cash on me," Alice groaned, but smiled indulgently at him.

"Tsk tsk, biting the hand that feeds you. I tell you what, this snort’s on the house, besides you look like a ghost took a sheet on your face. It’s my own special mix, so tell your friends. And it’s Pierre," Pete reminded with a grin. Alice hesitated, but bowed down to the urge and grabbed the sampler cap he offered. She inserted the cap into her nostril and inhaled noisily. The drug hit her like a brick at first and she stumbled in a bit of a daze, but as it mellowed, her head stopped aching.

Suddenly, someone collided with her and knocked her down. Swearing profusely, Alice looked up in time to see a white haired man in a suit rush by and turn a corner.

"You crazy sonuvabitch! Watch where you’re going!" Alice yelled after him. Bastard, she thought. Wait a second! What the hell is a suit doing down here, anyways? I wonder if he’s got any cash on him? She raced after him, hoping that no one got to the sucker first.

Her footsteps echoed as she rushed past the alley, punctuated by the crunch of litter scattered on the ground. When she turned the corner, she caught a glimpse of his face before he headed into the back entrance of some building. Jesus Christ, maybe it’s just the sampler, but he sure looks like a rat with glasses. She giggled to herself and ran towards the door, her worn down shoes slamming into her toes with each step. Alice cautiously opened the door and peered inside. It was very dark and musty in the building, but she continued on. Once inside, she heard an echo that sounded something like, " Damn, I’m late. She’s gonna kill me," followed by another door slam.

WHAM! An aftershock of the drug hit her and she began to fall. "Oh-shit-oh-shit-oh-shit-oh-shit!" she screamed and began to writhe wildly on the floor. Eventually, the feeling slowed down until it was more like floating, though it still took her awhile before she could get back on her feet again.

"I’m gonna kill that asshole," she muttered, wiping beads of sweat from her face. Alice began to move again, hoping she hadn’t lost Rat Face.

Her surroundings reminded her of an old, run-down strip club, especially with all the mirrors. She glanced in them and was taken back by her reflection.