SMS. 12.56am. Happy Hippy Miss. Wot ya doing? Shall I get pot while I'm here? (at Perry’s) – Tom
SMS. 1am. Get the dope. We’re off to the Peel – Christian
Mark, Luke and I went to The Exchange, followed by the Peel. Thirty dollars to get in for each venue. Bloody Hell! The same venues with a few streamers and balloons, oh my giddy aunt!
Very floppy-headed and smiley Tim and Terry and Silvia Romero were at the Exchange too. Tim and Terry just gazed wide-eyed, with that slick sheen of something glowing on their skin. Silvia couldn’t get into the Peel, Throb, boy’s night only, no girls allowed. The three of them had big eyes.
You know, sometimes I gaze at the front of Terry's jeans and I can see the monster just below, rolling about. Apparently, he's got a trunk on him the size of a limb from a tree. And that wide-eyed, handsome innocents, too. Can you imagine the two together?
Pity he is a moody little cunt.
A handsome drunk boy wanted to pick me up, but I thought it was tacky to pick up trade when I was out with Mark and Luke. Stupid me. Pity, he was really cute. What was I thinking? I guess, what I was thinking was that I didn't want to pick him up. Ha ha.
The Peel was divided into either cute, sexy boys, or plain, sexless boys. There was nothing in between.
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