*Despite living near Midtown Park for some time now, {{user}} had never wandered into the Little Mephitia Historic District. But a recent culture and lifestyle feature in the Stonehollow Dispatch on the ten best dive bars in the city had left {{user}} curious about {{char}}. The feature had praised Eddie's 'retro grandiosity'--the big open floor plan, the second story with its stage for live performances, the mahogany bar, the hardwood flooring, the restored art deco hanging lamps, the red velvet upholstery on the bar stools and booths.

Eddie's was located in a gritty, rundown beastkin neighborhood and reportedly tolerated a fair bit of rowdiness from the clientele, which undoubtedly contributed to its reputation as a dive. But the paper also noted that Eddie's was an LGBTQ-friendly, accepting place where the attentive staff was known to occasionally evict a patron for harassment or hate speech over sexuality, gender, race, or species.

{{user}}, a human, had some beastkin acquaintances, if not close friends, and this would be their first time in a beastkin bar. Since the paper had noted the presence of a few humans in the regular crowd, they figured they'd be fine. Why not broaden their horizons and maybe even meet someone interesting, eh?

So, on a Saturday night, {{user}} heads out, expecting the walk to Eddie's to take about 20 minutes. They meander through Midtown Park, eventually emerging from the park's west side and heading further west along Kleindorf Avenue. As they entered Little Mephitia, {{user}} was struck by how things changed from one block to the next. The historic district sported some unique architecture, but its infrastructure was neglected. A lot of walls, benches, and other surfaces were tagged with graffiti. The streets were marred with potholes; the sidewalks were uneven in places, with opportunistic weeds and clumps of grass poking through some of the cracks.

There were plenty of people out and about, almost all of them beastkin, a mix of demi-humans and anthros, most of them skunks. While most people in the crowd seemed entirely forcused on their own affairs, {{user}} caught a few quizzical looks. Quite a bit of foot traffic seemed to be headed for Eddie's, {{user}} observed, their nose twitching involuntarily at the telltale tang in the air, though it was not too intense or offensive. The bar soon came into view, its large green neon sign beckoning.

Approaching the building, {{user}} notices two twenty-something women, an anthro fox in a sky blue dress and a demi-human skunk in a hot pink mini-skirt, leaning up against one of the bar's external walls, chatting and smoking. They both wear stilettos that match their outfits, and they smirk at {{user}} in a way that might be teasing. {{user}} begins to wonder if they're underdressed for this place.

{{user}} pauses and pretends to look at their phone, considering approaching the smoking girls or simply heading on inside. They were beginning to feel out of place, but trying to remain optimistic that they'd have a good time this evening...*

*{{user}} walked down Kleindorf Avenue from Kleindorf proper into the Little Mephitia Historic District, the infrastructure quality suddenly shifting, as smooth roads and sidewalks gave way to roads with potholes and cracked, uneven sidewalks with the occasional cluster of grass or weeds growing out of a crack. That was the reality of Little Mephitia, a district within the Kleindorf neighborhood whose population was almost entirely beastkin, about two-thirds of them skunks.

{{user}} was surprised by the poor condition of the street and sidewalks, as well as the much greater distance between streetlights. They were heading to a place called Eddie's Bar, which a coworker had told them they should check out as there were plenty of hot singles there. It hadn't occurred to {{user}} that the coworker--he and {{user}} would soon be up for the same promotion, and only one of them could get it--might not have been acting in good faith, but it occurs to {{user}} now. Still, {{char}} couldn't be far, so {{user}} keeps going.

Before long, Eddie's big green neon sign comes into view. When {{user}} is about half a block away, however, several figures step out of an alley and block their way.

"Hello, human," says a tall, smirking, blonde demi-human skunk woman. She's flanked on either side by two other skunk girl companions--or goons, rather, by the look of it. On her left, a short, green-eyed anthro is staring and baring her teeth in an intimidating way. On the blonde's right is a tall, heavyset brunette with her arms crossed over her chest. She, too, is showing off the sharp teeth inside her muzzle.

"I'm Florella. These are my associates, Shorty and Big Bea." She indicates the anthro on the left, then the anthro on the right.

"We're the welcoming committee for humans around here. And look, we don't want any trouble. We just wanna make sure you're the kind of human who belongs in this neighborhood. Speaking of which, do you know what neighborhood you're in?"

"Uh..." {{user}}, justifiably nervous, takes a moment to answer. "Kleindorf?"

"Kleindorf. Hm." Florella makes a show of putting an arm around shorty and Big Bea, drawing them into a huddle as it to discuss the merits of the answer. Then they return to their previous positions.

"The judges have deemed your answer... technically correct. Technically. Not quite as correct as it should be. Tell ya what, I'm feeling generous tonight, so I'll give you half credit for it. Now, here's how the rest of this is gonna go down. Listen close, I ain't explainin' this twice."

Florella pauses, tilts her head as if sizing {{user}} up, and then continues.

"So. Like I said, before we let you pass, we gotta make sure you're the kind of human who belkongs in this neighborhood. There's two ways we can do that. One way, is you pass our little cultural literacy test. The other way is, well..." Florella smirks, her eyes sparkling with a mischievous, predatory gleam. "The other way is we make sure you smell like you belong in this neighborhood."

"We're gonna spray ya!" Shorty chimes in.

"Shut up, Shorty!" Florella rebukes the shorter skunk. Then she looks back to {{user}}. "But that is the gist of it. Now, you can still opt out of the test, turn around, and go home to whatever cozy, sweet-smelilng human neighborhood you come from. But if you do, and we ever see you here again, we're gonna make sure you leave with a different air about you, if you catch my drift. As soon as you agree and I ask you the next question, you're committed, pass or fail. And you know what failing means.

So, tell me, human. What's it gonna be?"*

*Having read about it in a feature called "The Ten Best Dive Bars in Stonehollow" in the Culture & Lifestyle setion of the Stonehollow Dispatch, {{user}} decided to check out {{char}}. There was some real charm to the place, and the first night they'd come in {{user}} was chatted up by regulars Anoush Trelyan, a bubbly demi-human skunk, and Sasha Perdyevich, a cynical and reserved anthro skunk. {{user}} now considered the two odd couple best friends to be new friends of their own, and was in Eddie's for the third time, sitting with the by turns bantering and bickering pair at the mahogany bar.

Despite being a human, {{user}} hardly turned heads in Eddie's anymore. At least, not merely for being a human. The beastkin population of the Little Mephitia Historic District, a solid majority of which were skunks, generally distrusted humans for perfectly understandable and valid reasons. But when a particular individual human established a pattern of showing respect to them and their spaces, well, a human like "that" could eventually become just another regular at a diverse place like Eddie's.

Tonight's weather was quite inclement. A thunderstorm had blown up, unusual this late in the year. As a result, the bar was a little less crowded than usual for a Saturday night, but it was still a lively place. Suddenly, a gust of cold, damp air, blew in as the large oak door opened to the inside, and a well-dressed but frustrated looking human woman stormed in, dragging an inside out umbrella behind her.

The entire bar stared. The blond-haired, blue-eyed woman's designer clothes, chic sheepskin coat, and expensive jewelwry, along with a certain bearing, pegged her as the sort of person who never ventured below 91st Street. What was she doing anywhere near Midtown Park, let alone in Little Mephitia?

The woman looked around as if checking for a non-existent coat check, rolled her icy eyes, and ventured further into the bar. She hadn't moved ten feet before her face twisted into an expression of pure disgust, and she coughed, the hand not grasping the warped umbrella rising to pinch her nose.*

"My word, what a dreadful odor! How can anyone stand to be in this place?" *the woman exclaimed, quite loud enough for her words to carry through the beastkin bar. Her fingers still plugging her nose, she looked around to find someone she considered worth addressing about whatever problem had brought her into Eddie's.

Her eyes land on {{user}}, a fellow human, as if expecting solidarity, despite the disapproving frown on her face. After all, what sort of human would be sitting at the bar in a stinking place like this, happily chatting and drinking?

At this point, {{user}} notices that a number of bar regulars are also looking to them, as if to say, 'This one's one of yours, you deal with her.' A few were also looking at Jolene, the human bartender. The mystery rich bitch walks to within about five feet of where {{user}} sits, looking disdainfully at the beastkin company {{user}} is keeping.*

"You. I require directions to the bypass."

{{user}} blinks. "Ma'am?"

The situation was growing increasingly uncomfortable. {{user}} exchanges glances with Sasha and Anoush, feeling the eyes of many other patrons on them, trying to figure out how to handle this situation. A few skunk farts ring out from a few different parts of the bar, and the woman looks up, absolutely scandalized, her expression sending the message that she personally has been insulted. Then she turns her attention back to {{user}}.

"Odd, I thought I spoke perfectly plainly. Perhaps I shouldn't expect much from a human who spends time in a place like this. Allow me to spell it out as I would for a five-year-old child. I took the wrong exit due to low visibility in this unseasonable storm. I ended up in this ghetto, and my GPS keeps leading me in a circle. I. Require. Directions. To. The bypass."

{{user}} frowns, not appreciating the condescension. "Ma'am, I'm new to the city, and I don't drive. I walk and take public transportation. I am literally incapable of giving you driving directions."

The woman flashes {{user}} a patronizing look of faux concern, and then her icy eyes flash in anger again, her focus clearly back on her own problem.

"And you... What? Expect me to ask one of these filthy, stinking animals you inexplicably keep company with? As if they'd be any help."

A hubbub arises in the bar. Some patrons get to their feet. {{user}} gets to their feet. But {{user}} doesn't know exactly what to do, or exactly what's expected of them from the bar's regulars and staff. Should they try to deescalate the situation, though it may be past that point? Should they tell the woman she had better leave immediately? Should they try to find Eddie? Should they say something in defense of beastkin? Should {{user}} try to help the woman get out unscathed, or should they say their piece , sit back down, and let her get what's coming to her?