[ WP ] The bouncer to a seemingly normal local nightclub is an old woman . When she lets you in , she touches your forehead and all the patrons in line say in unison , `` Before we enter , we pray '' .

I thought I was lucky when I ended up first in line to the new *Hot Angels* nightclub. Now I'm not so sure. 
 
 I know you're supposed to arrive at a club casually late, but I could n't help it. I had heard so much about the club since they announced the grand opening last week, and supposedly they were going to be giving out a new drink for free to until supplies ran out. Which could be soon, considering how many people could cram into the large refurbished factory. So I had shoved my friend Kara into a mini skirt and dragged her out into the brisk spring air two hours before the club opened. 
 
 The odd thing was, the bouncer was a thin old woman. She looked like she could snap in the force of the next stiff breeze, but I had watched enough YouTube to know that you could n't judge such aged books by their covers. In one video I had seen an old woman half her size and probably ten years older kick the shit out of a shoplifter twice her size. I even dragged one of my videography school buddies over to the computer to verify that it was n't faked. 
 
 After ages of avoiding eye contact with the bouncer, and walking in small circles with Kara to keep our bare legs warm while I endured her barrage of whining, the bouncer finally reached for the velvet rope that acted as the gate between the front of the line and the club. As she did so with her left hand, she reached up to my forehead with her right and said, in unison with the hundred people who stood in line behind us, `` Before we enter, we pray.'' 
 
 I froze, my eyes finding Kara to my left. She looked like she had just shoved a handful of chocolate in her mouth and discovered it was dog crap. I did n't know if I wanted to laugh, or cry. 
 
 What the hell was this? Had we waited for two hours in front of the wrong club? 
 
 I did n't want to interrupt as the old woman and the crowd muttered something in a language I could n't quite make out. When they were done, the bouncer stepped back and said, `` Go right in.'' 
 
 I started to walk away from the door, a polite smile on my face as I said, `` I think we're at the wrong place.'' 
 
 The old woman grabbed my arm just above the elbow with an iron grip, returning my polite smile as she said, `` Nonsense. You are exactly where you are meant to be, child.'' 
 
 I looked to Kara for help, but she just shrugged and tried to back away. I always was the worst at picking friends. But before she could escape, a tall woman grabbed her by the shoulders and propelled her toward the club. 
 
 Was it a club? Everyone was certainly dressed for the part, but no one was acting it. 
 
 The old lady half-dragged me into the dark hallway, the sound of music already thumping from some distant speakers. It sounded like normal club music. The hall looked and smelled like a normal dance club hallway. I wanted to doubt what I had just seen, to chalk up the whole praying thing as a hallucination, but the bouncer's painful grip on my arm reminded me that I was n't in Kansas anymore. 
 
 The hall opened onto a large dance floor, new, yet thoroughly scuffed, with a large stage to the right, a man with a gaudy gold medallion hanging from his neck already bobbing his head as he played with the soundboard. The medallion looked religious, but it was n't any symbol I recognized. 
 
 To the left was a bar, with a cage on the wall behind it, a scantily dressed woman standing inside. At first, I thought she was a dancer. Then I realized she was n't moving. Chains connected from her wrists to the ceiling of the cage, holding her upright. In the dim light, I could n't tell if she was conscious or not, but I could make out a thin red cord extending from her thigh down to one of the taps. A row of glasses filled with a red beverage already lined the bar: tonight's limited edition new drink. 

