Amanda dashes through the door

In a panic, Amanda ducks through the doorway on her right. She slams the door behind her. She's immediately struck by the musty, acrid stench of this place, and she wrinkles her cute little button nose. She looks around, but her eyes aren't immediately adjusted to the gloom. The tiled floor is cracked and dirty. Next to her is an old poster with a busty bikini babe on it. Directly in front of her is some sort of counter. She can make out a big fat black man in a stained wife-beater standing behind the counter.

Amanda stumbles forward, "Suh," she said in her darling southern accent, "Ah reckon ah'm in the wrong neighborhood."

"Sure looks like it, blondie," the man said.