A lonely figure wandered the dimly lit streets of the city.

‘Hey, dude! What’s with that sour face?’ asked a man, who was standing at the back door of a cheap restaurant, leisurely smoking.

The lonesome man just sighed and shook his head, starting off again.

‘I know a good place if you want to forget your troubles.’ the smoking guy shouted after him. ‘But I warn you ahead, don’t ask for anything that’s not alcohol.’

The man laughed and accepted the card from the guy, saying thanks and searching for the place.

Demons’ lair.

He found it easily, the place was loud and the red neon sign shone brightly like a guide lamp.

At the entrance 2 figures greeted him.

‘You are new right?’ one of them asked. The man just nodded in answer.

‘We are the guardians of hell, welcome to Demon’s lair.’ the other grinned widely, and ushered the man inside.

The man was quickly pulled into the crowd…

Next morning he woke up at the entrance of his house, not remembering much only the lights, the sounds and the euphoric feeling.

It seemed the guy was right, his worries were washed away… by the smell of it with whisky.