^No, that is not me^
Upon the stage of the 'La Casa Della Musica Cafe', stood local composer, singer, and general music aficionado Fox Flair would stand and sing a merry tune, his tenor vocal pitch flowing through the air. This short piece was his closing act for the night, and during the duration of his performance, the crowd had pretty much fallen in love with his vocals.
While the only accompaniment was a simple piano: the admiring atmosphere, the people looking upon him with enjoyment, the smell of coffee and cake would. All of the details that Fox would perceive all simultaneously rang out as musical notes (in his own auditory experience), harmonizing into an accompaniment beyond the imagination of the human mind.
As he would finish, an epic symphony of applause would ring out, as he would take a bow, then another as they would begin throwing flora at him, because they were rather wealthy cafe goers, and had flowers for some reason. Catching a flower on his way up, he would gracefully twirl it, and clench it betwixt his teeth he would eye a young lady in the crowd directly, and point his finger at her making a pistol with his thumb, and winked at her while simultaneously 'firing' the pistol. The resulting faint was all too comical, as hearts spewed forth from the young lady's mouth and eyes.
Fox was smooth as fuck, as he would take a final bow, and slide off into backstage. He would grab his glass of water from the table backstage and take a drink. A long, long drink. 2 hours of near constant singing left him quite parched. "Ahh~" he would sigh with relief as he finished the glass. "What a wonderful cafe. It even has a backstage for its live entertainment?"
