The Buttman Cometh
by Dan Plunkett
I was nursing a warm Carlsberg when she burst in through the Crocus Bar doors screaming. Her clothing was tattered and torn; a look of insane bewilderment accompanied this tragic vixen as she collapsed onto the floor in tears. I turned on my stool to watch as several of the female employees rushed over to help the woman off her feet. She continued screaming until one mole-faced employee covered her revealed body in a coat from the lost and found behind the bar. They took turns trying to coax the story out of her. She was muttering something that I could barely catch over the whines of the various bar inhabitants. Something about an eye. I overheard one barback mention something about rape, as another went to go call the authorities. Yanqiu! Yanqiu! She kept repeating, over and over again. She screamed it at the paramedics when they arrived, and the screams continued to echo until the blue and red sirens made their way past the corner of Xikang Lu.
