<blockquote>Eli was just about to give up on the evening when the cops arrived.
A collective groan rose through the patronage as the lights in the bar snapped full up and a little joke of an air raid siren began to wail from over the bar. Eli glanced down at his watch before he remembered that he wasn’t wearing one tonight — or much of anything else, for that matter. He shifted his wig a little more securely into place, though he didn’t think it helped the illusion much, not at this hour, not after this many beers. Shit, why hadn’t he tried a little harder tonight? Maybe he could have passed as someone’s little sister, tagging along for a night on the town!
Yes, Eli thought, because homosexuals brought their little sisters along with them to the bars all the time. The place was practically overrun with them. No faggots here, officers, just a bunch of little sisters out past curfew. He wondered how many palms the owners would have to grease to make the cops believe that.</blockquote>