What the Hell Happened?

Shane and I went out to Sircuit, Friday night. David had already gone to 80, after being stood up for dinner by his best friend T, with the words, I'm going to get my box filled.

David didn't turn up at Sircuit, despite texting him to say we were there, as promised and Shane disappeared fairly quickly up stairs.

I chatted to my old friend John, who said that Jeff and Raymond had been there and had just left.

He-who-shall-never-be-mentioned was there too. He and I chatted after John found his buddy who was visiting from London - a Melbourne boy who was just back for a holiday.

I stayed until 2am, when I left, with He-who...

Saturday morning, I got in the shower to find the base was slippery with something. It felt like some sort of oil-based gel. Every time I moved I felt in danger of slipping over. As I was drying myself, Shane appeared at the door.

"What the hell happened to the shower floor?" I asked.

"I dunno," said Shane. He gave a look that told me that's what he was there to discuss. "But, it was all over the door handles, toilet seat, taps, walls, basin, everything when I got in. And that floor is after I have scrubbed it with soap... for ages!"

"Jesus!"

"So, I don't know what kind of skank David was when he got home," said Shane, "but... I felt soiled when I got out."

I laughed. "Me too. Err!"

I visited my mum and headed to Bolago for the evening.