Jen hit it pretty big at dice that night, and knowing when to walk away was one of her specialties, so she pocketed the few thousand she had managed to win ignoring the missing hundred thousands in the bag, and headed out the door with her head held high. She had a deal with Gary, the guy running the shoe store off Main. She made her way to the bland building that had posters of shoes long since gone out of fashion hanging in the window. The window display was a few yellowing mannequin legs some with ratty socks, some without. She pushed open the door and headed to the counter to ring the bell a few times singing, "Harry Truman, Dorris Day..." just as Gary came out from the back, zipping up his pants. "Hello, Gary." She said using her best Applebee's voice, a large smile on her face. "As agreed, I have the first three month's rent." she told him as she pulled the money out of her bag and set it on the counter. The slimy looking man quickly picked it up, his curls slick with sweat, where they still existed anyway. Counting it he stuck his tongue through the gap between his teeth where a canine used to reside. A pink slug dancing among the corn kernels that were his teeth. He let out a grunt and pointed towards the back. 

"Fine, back door is yours and the second room." He said his voice gruffer than his appearance would belay to someone just looking. "If the cops come, I don't fucking know you." he gave his pants a tug up around his waist before snorting back what sounded like an impressive collection of tar and snot in his nose and throat. Gary slid a key across the counter towards her and waiting long enough for him to start moving his hand back Jen finally reached for it, but he was fast for his girth and reached out and grabbed her wrist, "Now Little lady, about the other payment..." he said in a lower voice, the smell of tuna and depression washing over her as he breathed his words. 

With a quick tug she kept the smile on her face and backed away a few steps, "Gary, come on now, we agreed money upfront, a portion of the profits and we'll see how it goes." She winked at him and before he could say anything else she quickly left the shop, the overhead bell tingling as if to signal her brain she could finally relax. With a shudder of revulsion, she headed around back to the private entrance to the storeroom that was now the new home of the future SpeakEasy, The Jentrification. 

At the moment it wasn't much, a few empty crates for seats, some boards across sawhorses for tables and a bar. The Light was dim, the place was dirty and the name didn't suit it at all. She loved it already. Lighting a cigarette she took a long drag and nodding her head as the vision in her head appeared before her. And in due time it would, but for now, it was an absolute shithole of a place. Putting her bag on one of the planks she pulled out a few glasses and some Bottles of unlabeled liquid, some brown and some clear. "I guess we're open." She said as she poured herself a glass, raising it to the empty room, cigarette between her lips. "To Jentrification!" she said to her ghosts. 

Over the course of the week with the Help of Foamy, the squirrel who would do literally anything for a nut, the place started coming together. It wasn't fancy by any stretch of the word, but there were real chairs now, at least three of them. She was ignoring them for a throne she had created out of crates, pillows and beer kegs. She knew Foamy was flying home today, and it had been far too long since her partner in crime had abused her liver while lifting her spirits. 

Lighting a cigarette she ready'd the glasses and filled hers, staring at it longingly before looking at the door just as it started to open. "FINALLY!" She shouted, and moved slightly as if she was going to leap from her seat and then shrugged, "Meh, Effort." she told him with a grin. Waving him in she picked up the bottle and started pouring his drink. 

Foamy had received a telegram from Jen, about something called 'Jentrification' back home in Detroit and wondered what the hell she'd got herself involved with. I mean, with the best will in the world, she was so classless she could have been a Marxist utopia.  

Arriving in the dank smelling, stained building with 2 and a half chairs (they could be chairs, they could be roughly hewn crates) he noticed his compadre, resplendent in her eating t-shirt, recently soiled atop a rather splendid throne.

'Jen, i think i've finally found a home, but tell me, the guy zipping up his pants that smelled like soup, what's his story?, and where the fuck is the singing machine?'

Foamy gets a couple of bottles and makes a vat of zombies,

'let the fun times roll'

She grins and accepts the drink, "Gary? Well you know the usual story, leers up women's skirts and has to keep so far from places where children may be." she took a big sip and sighed, letting her body droop and relax slightly. "Honestly, I'm shocked you never got into selling women's shoes. Not only because you like to wear them when you think no one can see you, but also the leering up the skirt gig." 

At his question about the singing machine, she pointed with her free hand towards a lump that was covered in a sheet. She grumbled, "I guess since you made the drinks..." she said as she struggled to her feet and set the drink on the bar top to meander over to the sheet. With a flourish, she yelled out, "GET READY FOR THIS, Dunn dun dun dunnnuhnun" and revealed a record player underneath. 

Jimi had been back in Detroit for almost a day now, after a few days in Chicago, taking care of some business related stuff. An old friend was opening a record label there and asked for Jimi's help, who helped promptly, offering creative advice from an acid-soaked imagination. He also spend some quality time with a girl from there. Ah, those were some good few days, no doubt.

Back in Detroit though, being a connected man as he was, he soon heard about the new speakeasy that was opened, apparently during his days out of town. He always loved checking those ones out, in order to relieve his thirsty throat and expecting a good conversation or some good laughs. So, after spending some hours at the Guitars and Ganja's HQ, Jimi headed to the aforementioned location, a place called The Jentrification.

Once there, Jimi came across a simple place, a strangely cozy place. Jimi's extravagant and colorful clothes made a bizarre, perhaps funny, contrast to the place. He walked straight towards the counter, where two beings were talking. He immediately recognized the mystical squirrel, Foamy, and then he looked at Jen, whom he didn't know. He offered both of them a gentle smile.

"Good evening!" he said, clearly interrupting whatever the two were talking about. "May I have some whiskey, please?"

Foamy clapped excitedly at the sight of the Gramophone and my word, the size of the thing, so impressive

'Jen, that's not the only thing in here with a big horn! which reminds me, where are your shoes?'

Foamy notices the bohemian type JimiHendrix walk in, the colours of his outfit reminding him of an explosion in a paint factory

'Whisky it is sir, coming right up, feel free to put someting on the gramophone.  Jen, can we set up a shoe stall too?'

She blinked, a bit taken aback by the strange turn of events. Giving a little half wave she looked at the man standing there before her, the hair and clothes she looked him up and down, "Hendrix?" she asked more to her self than of the man himself, "No, no thats not possible." she shook her head forcing a laugh, "Welcome, sorry about the dirt we really just wanted a place to be obnoxious and loud while maybe make money to cover more of the same." she explained while Foamy returned with his drink. 

She started half assededly folding the sheet as Foamy asked about the shoes, "What? Why on earth would I have a stand for shoes? Do you WANT Gary to come in here and try to peep up skirts and things?" she asked him as she tossed the crumpled fabric to the side before moving back towards her throne of Jenius. 

NathanExplosion had recently decided to get out of his recliner and do some work. He had been hanging out at home far too often and needed to get back to the grind. Or would it be Jrind? He isn't sure how this works. Gennifer keeps switching her Gs and Js. Surely it's some sort of mental issue. It didn't surprise him frankly, he had heard these types of things were generally...he, JENerally hereditary.

He made his way over to her business, the Jentrification. Apparently it was a future speakeasy. Nathan was confused.

"Beer?" He asked no one in particular.

Pulling her attention away from the man before her she glanced at the newcomer, "Nah, I'm Jen but people make that mistake a lot." she tells him with a small shrug. Jen picked up her glass filled with a murkey pinkish-orange drink and a tiny paper umbrella and pointed at it, "Zombie?" she asked him with a grin, "Because unless you like warm beer..." she said gesturing to the kegs that had been her throne, warm from her body lounging about them. 

'I mean, i was hoping to beat Gary at his own game, i glued his mailbox up earlier cos you know, irritant and everything'

Foamy continues to make zombies and brings a glass of beer, warmed by Jens warm bodily excretions over to Nathan

'there you go guvnor, on the house, fancy a singalong?'

Her ears perked up at Foamy's words, not the bit about a sing-a-long, that was a drunken given regardless of who was here, but the bit before that. "What do you mean on the house?" she shouted getting to her feet, a bit shakily, "If anyone here can afford to pay for overpriced warm crap beer it's gonna be this one!" she said, gesturing at the Man standing there looking mildly expensive. She turned to Jimi and mouthed, "Sorry, no offense" because she for the life of her could not remember what Racism was like these days. "Charge him at least double!"

Foamy makes the hand across the throat gesture to say 'shut up, shut up'

'I'm stealing his fucking wallet, keep him occupied'

By the time Jimi finished the glass of whisky, he had already rolled a fat blunt. He knocked on the counter, looking at Foamy.

"Pour me another one, would ya, little buddy?"

He lights the blunt and gives it a few puffs, before offering for the others around.

"Anyone wants to try this? It's good stuff."

Nodding her head she threw her arms wide, "I can get you that drink!" she said, dramatically while taking his glass and making her way to the bar, her gait unsteady in the absurd skirt she was wearing, "Are you SURE this is in fashion?" she called to Foamy, regarding her pencil skirt, "Feels tighter than a too small condom, and why would women not want to move more than two inches every step?" she asked as she poured Jimi his drink. 

Waddling back over to him, she handed JimiHendrix the glass, "You look like you know clothes, are pencil skirts actually a thing?" she asked him, "Because if a cop busts through that door I'm either gonna have to strip or get caught." she shook her head, "Stupid 1930s." she muttered.