Smoky golden hues clung to the skyline of The City as my Honda rolled along 41st. It had rained earlier in the day and the moisture in the air clung to me, causing me to learn forward to escape the faux-leather seat. Stopping at the intersection of Grand Avenue, I turned to my two passengers, “A left?” I addressed the man in the front. He was taller than most, his chocolate hair just long enough to pass for shaggy. His glasses had slide down his nose and he was slumped over. As a soft snore escaped his lips he looked much older than his 22 years. “Carl” I said, giving him a small shove, “Wake up. We’re almost to Angie’s place.”
Turning slightly to face me, his eyes remaining shut tightly, he protested my invasion of his nap with a sound akin to a gay ram being offered a ewe. This was the response I had come to expect. Shoving him again slightly harder, I decided to take a left without his conformation.
Turning my attention to the man sitting behind me, I glanced at him in my rearview mirror, “now, you said you’re fine with…pharmaceuticals, right? ‘Cause I really don’t want you to be uncomfortable.” Watching him I noted his eyes flick up and to the left, “yeah, no, I’m cool with it.” He was lying. Even if I hadn’t see his eyes I could tell from his voice he was scared. Hell, I was scared the first time I saw people use drugs firsthand. That’s his business; I’m not here to coddle, and protect him. He came with me. Now I was lying. I could pretend not to care if he was nervous or not, but I did. Would my life be different if someone had stopped me? Definitely. Would it be better?
“Duude…” Carl had pulled himself from his hibernation. “I need booze…” Damnit Carl. I sighed, and made a slight indication toward my glove box. Being a frequent passenger in my vehicle he opened the glove box and pulled out my pack of Camels. Deftly, he slipped two cigarettes from the pack, handing one to me and placing the other in between his lips. For a moment we sat looking sidelong at each other expectantly.
“You’ve got it” Carl began patting his pockets. “Shirt pocket.”
“Oai” His victory cry, as he pulled the green Bic from his left shirt pocket that declared he was “Zeek.” Leaning slightly toward me, he flicked the lighter and shielded the flame for me to light my cigarette off. Pulling back from the flame and puffing out the side of my mouth I nodded my thanks to him. He returned the gesture as he lit his own cigarette.
I soon spotted a liquor store but circled wide around the block to give us time to smoke.
We flicked our smokes as we pulled into the parking lot. “Get us something,” I told Carl, handing him 20 dollars. “I’m gonna call them and see if they need anything since we’re here.” Remembering I had another passenger, I glance back, “you need anything Adam?” He did not; he had some Kahlua in his pack. I received a different reply from my second inquire. They would like some Jagermeister and Bacardi 151; it was going to be an interesting night.
I entered the store to make my purchase. Carl was standing in the back, near the whiskeys. “Good man” I thought to myself. I trusted his choice in alcohol, but it was still nice to see him choosing one of the old favorites.
Upon our return to my car Carl pulled a bottle of Jim Beam from the bag. Interesting.
“Bourbon and AMT?” I asked.
“Should be interesting, huh?” Carl replied. He was right; it should be.
Leaving the liquor store we made a quick right and took the direct route. It was now after eight o’clock and I could now park on the right side of the street. The street was eerily silent when we arrived, and dark. It seemed the neighborhood hadn’t seem fit to turn on their porch lights that night. Only the chiropractic center on the corner had its exterior lights on.
Before I even turned the car off, Carl was digging in his deep pockets pulling out his over-stuffed leather wallet and a small vial full of white powder. I shared his excitement. Grinning slightly I turned my full attention to Adam, in the back, for the first time in hours. “Go on in. You’ve met Angie and she knows you’re coming.” The relief in his eyes told me I made the right choice. He’d make plenty more that night, and probably choose the same path I had years ago, but he didn’t need to start with this.
Carl didn’t miss a beat during this short exchange and by the time Adam had entered Angie’s house Carl had made two neat lines of the chalky white substance and held a rolled up dollar bill. My stomach surged with excitement. “After you, Sir” I addressed Carl formally, as I often did at the start of one of these nights. With little hesitation he snorted his line. Handing me the wallet and the remaining line, he cracked open the Bourbon and took a long pull. As I leaned in to partake of my line, Carl pulled the bottle from his lips, “you enjoy that now”, he said, a shit-eating grin cracking his face.
Naturally I was confused by his comment, but whatever he meant I figured I’d soon find out. Inhaling deeply as I slid the bill along carefully not missing any of it. Finishing the line I looked up, catching Carl’s eye just as I realized why he had made his comment. A semi-sweet dryness crept down the back of my throat slowly spreading a slightly numb feeling. “Had a little left over, so I thought I’d cut it in,” Carl confirmed my suspicions.
“I’m not complaining” I replied, as I took my own swallow of bourbon. “Come on, we’ve got quite a night ahead of us.”
My head spun slowly and my vision began to tunnel slightly as we approached the door. The weathered oaken door swung open before us revealing a scene to rival the great room’s of Thebes. The blue haze that hung over this decadent scene further diminished my already dim vision. Directly on my left sat a beige couch with several burn holes scattered across it. Two people I had never met before sat on it, legs stretched on the glass coffee table sitting in front of them. One of them slowly thumbed a mossy substance into a pipe.
The extreme right corner held three people, two men and a woman, watching T.V. and drinking heavily. Through the din of the room, I was able to pick up only: Green Six, Sancuary, Drink and Sandman. Past the couch on my left were a hallway and the kitchen. The hallway was dark and held little interest. However, the kitchen seemed to revirbarate with sound. Shouted political discourse mixed with an Irish drinking song and an oddly sexual conversation about a frozen pizza creating a musical score to the other events of the house.
Sudden movement in the back of the room drew my attention from the scene. From this distance I could only see a vaguely head shaped brown blob and instinctively began moving closer to better ascertain what had drawn my attention. The initially overwhelming scene had now become muted as I crept closer, eager to discover what lie in the back. Slowly, my eyes focused on an auburn haired woman lying on the blankets, a long, leather braid hose hanging from her mouth. The hose ran back to a Hookah sitting on a small table in the corner. A sudden movement near her waist again drew my attention from the details of the scene. As my eyes finally properly focused on the scene, I realized what I had been staring at for the better part of five minutes. The young woman was Katie, a girl I had lust after since I met her the previous year, and the movement that had drawn my attention was one of my ex-girlfriends enthusiastically performing cunnilingus. I now had a choice to make. As a heterosexual man, this wasn’t an unpleasant image. On the other hand, it might be perceived as quite rude to interrupt them. My mind struggled to fight through the drugs and liquor but seemed to be losing the battle. As a result of my current situation I continued standing, staring dumbly until I felt a hand come to rest lightly on my shoulder.
“Yeah, it’s fucking hot, “ Carl said, “Come on, Ang and I are gonna chase the dragon. Join us.” I nodded my agreement, my decision having been made for me. Turning I saw Angie disappearing down the hallway trying to draw little attention. She was a unique sight, even in this crowd. Purple hair stood slightly off her scalp, much light the spines of a hedgehog. Her thin-rimed glasses almost disappeared in this light, while somehow her lip ring shone. Her fingers also had a dull sparkle from her many rings—three on the left, four on the right. If you asked her, she’d tell you that each had a story, but few asked. It occurred to me in my less-than-sober state, that beyond these key features she was really quite average. Having divided my attention too greatly between thinking and walking, I stumbled. Drawn back from my thoughts, I tried to concentrate on following Carl to Angie’s room. Passing back by the beige couch I noted that Adam had joined the two others and was now partaking of the herb.
As I entered Angie’s room I made a quick survey of the options. Bed. No back. Papasan. Too hard to get up. Floor. Hurt my ass. Beanbag chair. Yes. Carl had chosen the papasan. The room was small and everyone was close enough that the pipe could be easily handed from person to person. As I slowly puffed on the long thin pipe my mind drifted back, as it usually did, to the caterpillar from Alice in Wonderland.
“A..E..I..O..U” I intoned, as I imagined the letters in the smoke I slowly exhaled.
“Fucking Fag,” Carl said under his breath as he took the pipe from me. As I began to respond with an ill-prepared jest about his involvement in a Bukkake party, Angie slid into my lap and curled up. Placing my arm around her hip I no longer felt the need to respond and instead merely gave him a smirk.
Slowly I slipped into a state of pseudo-sleep aware of my surroundings but completely removed from them. Angie had fallen a sleep and her steady, rhythmic breathing pulled at me. “A good night,” I thought as I let myself be pulled under.
A bright light invaded my slumber some time later. I shifted under the weight of my friend, attempting to go back to sleep. However, a dull pain in my head—my body’s protest to the evening’s events—wouldn’t allow me to slip back to my blanket of slumber. Sighing, I opened my eyes cautiously, not wanting to expose them to the morning’s light to quickly. Angie slept on, but my bladder became insistent that I move her and let nature take its course. I placed my hands on the sides of her shoulders, intending to gently slide her off of me. As I made contact with her pale flesh my stomach lurched and I had to choke back the sick. I cried out to the Gods, my bladder forgotten.
Note: Neither I or anyone in this account have any malice against Homosexuals. If I have offended you with the use of certain words, I am sincerly sorry.