Tuesday, October 27, 2009


"Haven't you ever noticed how you can tell a McDonald's from a, say, Donald's?" Incoherence. It’s like I’m watching some pixilated version of insanity – that’s how much this guy is getting through to me. I seriously think about what it would be like to shove my hand down his face-hole and pull his esophagus out and eat it in front of him.
"I'm losing you, champ." I feel sorry for him, really. He’s got a hot girlfriend, a good job, and a descent car, but man, he’s such a fuck up.

"Look, they just have a certain feel to them – like there's a lot of money in the promotion, the signage and stuff." Signage? Did he say that word? Where in his ass did he pull that from? Could I somehow hire a team of ghetto people to mine his ass for choice words like these, so that I could send them into the sun, Superman style?

"Signage?" As I say this, I’m not kidding you, his eyebrows come down like I’m a fucking retard to not understand the word signage. I want to scream in his ear YES I UNDERSTAND THE FUCKING WORD, BUT IT SOUNDS GAYER THAN NINE GAYS ON A FAG FREIGHT, YOU STUPID FUCKING CUNT OF A HUMAN BEING!
"Fuck it." He takes the smoke out of his mouth and flicks it on the ground. He's actually mad about this.

"Buddy, look, it's possible you were in some alternate dimension, but – "

"I didn't say it was an alternate dimension, I just said it was weird." No, you just spelled your doom, buddy. It’s a known fact that dementia’s onset is followed by loss of loved ones, and your girlfriend is going to be having my dick for breakfast within the month, you stupid cocksucker.

"Have you gone back?" Its all a carnival now. I’m witnessing a freak show and I can’t stop giving the carni coins to throw another ball at the fucker.
"Yes! And none of it was there!" The emotions run high when you’re a fucking nut-job.

He walks towards the keg and I ask "Did you ever get Risk?"

"Yes, at a K-Tell. Have you heard of it?"

"You mean the old record company?"

"No, the store that looks exactly like K-Mart, but is called K-Tell. Here." He hands me a receipt for Risk and a Diet Pepsi. The queer actually drinks Diet Pepsi. I mean, sure he’s fat and doughy like a sack of excrement that’s been out in the sun too long, but to actually show me a receipt with his guilty admission of fatitude? What a tool.

"Well, it is Halloween." I notice it does say K-Tell, and I haven’t heard of it, but then again, I never heard of Value Village until Chuck G. told me it was a good place to score coke.

He walks over to his girlfriend, who I'm sure was even more skeptical then me.

I look around and realize there's no one else at the party to talk to. I know everyone vaguely and I don't feel like chatting up a stranger.

So, I decide to leave.

"Denim! Hey, wanna get stoned?"

"Sure." It's T.J. The English communist. He was born in the U.K., moved here and now is having problems getting permanent citizenship because of his affiliation with the communist party.

By the way, according to T.J., Marx predicted communism would fail at first, then come back for good and win over the evils of capitalism.

Like Rocky.

Upstairs we go to T.J.'s room to get high. T.J. is kind of a goon, but it's his house and his party, so I treat him like a normal human being.

No comments: