Vox Mentis

You're giving out private invitations to a new hot nightclub and these ladies look like they belong on the guest list. Now if I could get your name and I'll give you the password, then just show up, etc.

"Hey! You ladies!" you call across the street. "There's a hot new club in town and I want to get you three on the guest list!" Their heads turn.

"Verbal promise of exclusive reward. Three."

The man reaches you, smiling gently. "Sorry, I'm not interested in a survey."

"Oh, okay." Over his shoulder, a mother holding a hand of a young boy heads for the grocer.

If there's a tall building on the opposite sidewalk, take a half pace back and start yelling+pointing up, where the man would have to cross the road to look without cricking his neck. Maybe fake someone about to jump from the top? A baby dangling from a window?

You take a step back and point upwards across the road, screaming about someone about to jump. The woman glances at you, then away.

"Did you say club invitations?" one of the female trio asks you, oblivious to your screaming. She has a stud in her nose and outrageous mascara.

"Somebody help him!" you scream, pointing, one eye on the mother.

She turns into the grocer. You can read tension in her neck: she's heard you, but chosen to ignore you.

You look at Jane. "That's only one strike, right, because they were together."

"Correct. One strike."

"So those club invitations," says the mascara woman.

"Uh, sold out." They leave, looking disappointed. Coming down the far sidewalk is a gaggle of college-age boys in baggy pants and muscle shirts.