The Flesh Pound

[Intro Upright bass + brush drums + distant piano]

[Bar noise under everything — clinking glasses, distant laughter, someone yelling "WHERE'S MY OTHER LEG?"]

[Aimee (spoken, into a vintage mic, like a lounge singer):]
"Ladies and gentlemen.
Gentlemen and ladies.
And the rest of you — you know who you are.
Welcome to the Flesh Pound."

[Piano plays a descending, minor chord. Horns enter — muted trumpet, lazy trombone.]

[Aimee (sung-spoken):]
"Cover charge is one pound of flesh.
We accept cash, credit, or your neighbor's left breast.
Bar's in the back.
Fights in the front.
If you cry, we'll hunt you.
Now shut up and —"

[Band hits — one massive, swinging chord]

[Aimee (screaming, playful):]
"— SKANK!"

---

[Verse 1 Sultry, swinging]

The door's made of scrap and the floor's made of blood
The jukebox is playing a song about mud
But nobody's listening — they're too busy fighting
A psycho just bit a guy — said "he tasted exciting"

I'm behind the bar with a rusty tin cup
Someone threw a table — I told 'em "stand up"
This ain't that kind of place — we got standards
You bleed on the floor, you buy the next round, cowards

[Horns play a short, swinging phrase — like a nod]

---

[Chorus Full band — swinging hard]

[Aimee:] TIME TO PLAY! TIME TO PLAY!
[Bar crowd:] (TIME TO PLAY!)
[Aimee:] Put another quarter in the jukebox today
[Crowd:] (QUARTER!)
[Aimee:] It's time for another pound of flesh
[Crowd:] (POUND!)
[Aimee:] Skankin' on the bar till we make a mess

[Aimee:] THE FLESH POUND!
[Crowd:] (FLESH POUND!)
[Aimee:] WHERE THE DRINKS ARE CHEAP AND THE LIMBS ARE LOOSE!
[Crowd:] (LIMBS!)
[Aimee:] THE FLESH POUND!
[Crowd:] (FLESH POUND!)
[Aimee:] WHERE THE BARTENDER'S A LADY AND SHE'S GOT A NOOSE!

[Horns play a triumphant, swinging melody — think New Orleans funeral meets dancehall]

---

[Verse 2 More aggressive, but still swinging]

Someone just ordered a bloody mary — hold the mary
Just blood, no tomato, and a side of canary
We don't got canary — we got skag meat on a stick
He said "close enough" — then he ate the glass, the freak

A vault hunter walked in — didn't make it to the stool
Someone used his spine as a barstool
He's still alive — that's the policy here
You gotta feel the music if you wanna buy a beer

[Drum fill — snare roll into the chorus]

---

[Chorus Repeat]

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[Bridge Tempo drops to half-time — smoky, intimate]

[Aimee (sung, almost a whisper):]

There's a corner booth where the regulars sit
One's missing a nose — says he "donated it"
Another one's crying — says he lost his best friend
I said "what was his name?"
He said "...my left hand."

[Piano plays one sad, lonely chord. Then silence.]

[Aimee (spoken, deadpan):]
"Sir, this is a bar, not a support group.
Order something or leave."

[Band crashes back in — twice as loud, twice as fast]

---

[Horn Solo 16 bars — trading fours]

---

[Chorus Repeat]

—-

[Outro]

"We close at dawn.
Or when the bodies hit the floor.
Whichever comes first.
Tonight... it's gonna be dawn."

Ska-Jazz, Swing, female