So I ended up not talking to that chick on the bench, she said something about schizophrenia and my lack of pubic fuzz. Fuck man, I can see the disappointment on Mama’s face already.
In a stupor I called my brother JBurns (hereafter referred to as “JB”) because I needed a vial of ether. I was out of weed too but I couldn’t risk going inside smelling like God’s green earth so I skipped that. JB was never far, this guy rolled out of the bush with an Asian broad named Sun-Ni. “Like Philadelphia,” she said, go figure. Apparently he had to go re-up but saw how twisted I was looking and offered me a 99 cent Rice Krispy treat which did help with the depression.
Later that day, once we managed to stumble back through the screen door of our basement (office) apartment he brought up the fact that we had all these drugs but nobody else around to help us celebrate. You see, he’s a sex addict. Ever since we discovered the Internet he’s been on it 24/7 scoping out the obvious. Well anyway, he came across a thing called Backpages where you can call women-of-the-hour and basically order some sex! I was determined to make up for earlier and he was just trying to get some so we grabbed the company phone and well, this is how it went.
Thank God for flip-phones and Rice Krispies