A hush came over the crowd, and everyone in the bar turned to face the stage.

Kate was stuck. There was no turning back now.

She blinked through the spotlight on her, and she knew she couldn’t hold a drink if her life counted on it. Why did she let her office co-workers bully her into coming out to this hideous karaoke bar?

And most importantly, how was she to top the last sixteen performances of Pussycat Doll songs? As she flipped through the book of songs, there were hardly any songs she actually knew.

Why didn’t she care about pop culture more? It was times like these when it counted.

As she continued to blink, trying not to puke up an entire plate of cheeseburgers and french fries and a bottle of vodka…she stared down at her co-workers, laughing and pointing, like mad drunken idiots.

Kate was going to prove everyone wrong.

The music began to pound obnoxiously out of the speakers. Kate growled ferociously into the mic to everyone’s shock.

“There is a house in New Orleans…“