A Short Story Ending in Delicious Irony

Last night we went out for the first time since we moved, I think. We've had concerts or been sick every weekend.

An old friend of Capella's was in town from Montreal for a show with his bluegrass band, Notre Dame de Grass. (If you've never been to Montreal, there's a neighborhood called Notre Dame de Grace) His show was awesome. It was in a residential neighborhood, so it finished by about 11. Andrew, Capella's friend, had a friend from Montreal who was also playing a show in Toronto last night. Since it was on our way home, we decided to stop by and check it out. When we got to the club, there was a line up outside that didn't look like it was moving anytime soon. Andrew called his friend, who had just finished her show, and we agreed to meet at a bar down the street that we knew, called the Beaver. We been there a few times before for breakfast.

So Capella, Andrew, another friend, and I walked down the street to the bar. We got there and were surprised to see a gay dance party going on- men in unitards and briefs packed to the rafters.

As the extreme irony of a gay dance party happening at a bar called the Beaver dawned on us, we failed to suppress extreme giggles, and retreated back down the street.