Party For Two

Sam and I went into the city to eat Taiwanese street food. It was a sunny day.

We went to meet Mr X to collect the crystal.

As we walked past the pub a voice said, “Hello Christian.” It was Jack (my old boss at the accounting firm) looking his usual gorgeous self, standing outside the pub with a (very handsome) male friend (there is hope yet). He introduced his boyfriend, er, friend. Way to go Jack and I introduced Sam.

CBD. Mr X looks like a fresh faced first year uni guy. A contact, from a friend of a friend. No names, just a phone number. I wonder how this job is going to go for him? He always wants to meet in a public place. He doesn’t talk much. Three words, at most. No niceties. No messing around. Get it done. Then disappears into the crowd. And is gone. 

We drove Mark and Luke to the airport at 4pm. It was a sunny afternoon.

We went to Woollies, to get sustenance, we went to Manhaus, accoutrement you know the drill.

Towels and sheets. Medical supplies. We started with the tina at 6pm.

Guido dropped off pot just after the crucial hour. Front door open a slash, standing naked behind it.

“Sorry I’m late,” says Guido.

“No problem.”

“You started already?” says Guido.

“Aha.”

“That’s why you not letting me in?” asks Guido.

“Ha?”

“You got nothing on behind there?” says Guido.

“Yup.”

“Come on, give us a look,” says Guido.

I slide my hand though the crack the door was open.

“Thanks pal.” I take the plastic bag from his hand. 

“Happy to,” says Guido.

I remember it being light outside. I remember it being dark outside. I remember it being light outside.

Somewhere between 6pm and 11am, I took a big shit. Spat lube. Lube hands. Lube stomach. Lube legs. Crossed eyes. Well, not quite crossed eyes, but I am sure you know what I mean… some of you. Kissed Sam. And kissed him again. And once we were done with each other, we mindlessly watched all the porn we could find. DVDs. Hard drives. 2 laptops. Remotes encased in plastic bags. 

and, normally passed out. 

I’m not sure what you’d call it, but I have a built in safety switch. I can smoke, pop, ingest, sniff, swallow, shaft so much, but there is a point, normally no longer than 48 hours, and my body/brain will just switch me off. If I am at that point, I can do a Burnley Tunnel sized line of speed, but it will be to no avail, my brain will still go click, off. I have never tried to fight it, as I have seen what days on end of partying can do to some people, and it ain’t pretty. 

We didn’t actually pass out this time. But at some point, you just know when it is time to stop. You just know. The auto-energy has long since stopped, things start to creek, and hurt, you become aware of the chafing, and you wonder how long that has been happening., the euphoria has ceased, and the thought of another puff on the pipe just makes you feel a little queasy, then you know. 

I have a lighter burn thumb injury. I guess I’m lucky if that’s all I have. I’m not going to tell you what else is injured.