"The Red Place"

        I was looking for a job.  I walking down Main Street, handing out 
resumes in places I think I could work.  I had no real qualifications, so I 
thought that with some luck the best job I could get would be to be a cashier 
in some store.  With no luck, I would end up washing dishes.  But luck wasn't 
there at all since it seemed that nobody needed me to wash their cutlery or 
collect their money.  I was still strolling on Main Street when I got to that 
building.   People were painting it in red, and it was obviously having some 
other repairs as well.  I didn't remember what was there before, so it 
probably was some sort of house they were converting into a store of 
something.  All the windows were covered with newspaper, except with the 
door's window, which was covered with the following ad:

        The Red Place -- Leftier than your ordinary caf‚
	
        We mean to be a gathering for all kind of revolutionary people. We are 
        looking for people to work in our coffeehouse.  If you are interested, 
        come meet us at 331, East 4th avenue and we will discuss some way to 
        fit you in our staff.

Looks like all my luck was hiding there.  Working in the soon-to-be coolest 
place in town was something I couldn't refuse, so I headed up to 4th avenue.

        The place was a private home.  I knocked, and was promptly welcomed in 
by some charming 20-something girl.  She knew what I was coming for, so she 
led me to the living room and asked me to wait for a moment.  She came back 
with a guy and another girl, and I knew I would be interviewed.  We talked 
some time about my past working experiences, and then the conversation drifted 
to my political beliefs, and theirs.  They wanted to be part of a new wave of 
worker resistance to the global crisis the common people had to face and help 
foster it.  Anyway, I got a job waiting for tables and was very happy.

        The job was kinda easy.  The place wasn't getting many customers at 
first, but when people caught on that there was a good place where people with 
open minds would be welcomed, lots of them came.  Punk bands came to sing at 
The Red Place, and political gurus were crashing on the class system.  They 
were really fostering a new movement of protestation and we were getting some 
wide publicity in the city.  Newspapers were talking about us: the city 
council was worried, some gang fights between nazi skins and punks happened 
often at the end of shows just outside the coffeehouse, but nothing really 
bad..  Just the normal reactions from stuck up people.

        But then came The Night.  "Losers R Us" were playing a great set, and 
big crowd was inside.  Not before long, tho, there also was a big crowd 
OUTSIDE. I first thought that once again, skins decided to kick some butt, but 
before long I understood what was going on.  A special CIA task force entered, 
armed to the teeth.  

	"WE'RE CLOSING THIS THING DOWN, YOU COMMIE BASTARDS!@"

        Nobody bothered to listen to them, the band continued to play, and 
before anybody could do anything, they gave a whole new meaning to the name of 
our coffehouse.

-L'Extr‚miste of Mistigris