It had been five days since Donbot had seen Camazotz receive his commupence and Roberto_Carlos ding his way into the Pit. In that time, much had happened. When he said much had happened, Donbot was just guessing as he hadn't actually left the Pit since November, so much of what he said was hearsay or outright lies. Such was the life of a dreg, such was the life of Donbot.

"Joachim" Donbot snapped his fingers at the barman, who promptly ignored him. "Another one of these!" He raised his empty glass and promptly dropped his head on the table.

"Fucking thing!" He heard someone shout. This encouraged Donbot to raise his head from the sticky table, losing a layer of skin from his cheek in the process, which made him regret the effort. Behind him, two tables over, he recognise the decrepit, pock mocked, ebony face of DeShawn "leadfoot" Johnson.

"What's the matter with you, shithouse?" Donbot asked rubbing his sore cheek.

"Damn man, this fuckin' thing, yo!" leadfoot shouted before smashing himself squarely on his bald pate and letting out a yelp.

Donbot frowned through the alcohol haze and once he realised that leadfoot wasn't just smashing himself on the top of his head for fun, which wouldn't have been much of a surprise given what an idiot he way, he noticed a small fly circling around him.

"It is just a fly, what's your issue?" Donbot asked. He had been desperate to work a hipster phrase like 'what's your issue' into a conversation and he mentally ticked another box on his cool chart.

"Man, this buzzing motherfucker man! leadfoot hollered again and began fumbling in his pocket for the knife he always carried "'Amma fuckin' get it dawg!"

Donbot watched on with amusement at the prospect of leadfoot stabbing himself in the head. leadfoot took a few wild swipes at it, before he tripped over a basketball at his feet which he usually dribbled. Donbot burst out laughing.

"You stupid fucker! Don't you realise that you will only injure yourself if you take notice of despicable enemies?" Donbot managed to get out between laughs.

"Hey, fuck you man" leadfoot snapped, picking himself off the floor. "I don't need this shit for a waste of space like you, 'amma hit my pipe!" And with that he got up and left.

Donbot conceeded that he probably had a point and put his head back on the table. He waited patiently for his drink and dreamed of better days. He couldn't think of any, so he went to sleep instead.

Flea had stumbled into the The Pit a long time ago, he had been asking directions for 'the greatest time ever' and he was directed here. He entered and almost threw up from the various smells, sights and sounds emitting from the place. He had slowly made his way over to the bar and had a drink that definitely made him throw up, yet, he was hooked. He would come in there from time to time(read all the time) and just sit in a corner wallowing in his own vomit.

He had heard a disturbance sometime ago regarding a thing with a bell and a something or the other. Today he was relatively sober and he could witness the exchange between Donbot and leadfoot. He smiled, which was a pain as his face was now frozen in a permanent grimace from the whiskey. He tried to get up and after emitting some weird souding grunts,gave it up as a waste of effort. He just managed to mumble

Just when I was thinking nothing could surprise me.