| dewy decimal |
2003-02-22 - 12:03 p.m.
Bedroq Caf� was where the scene was last night. Another Avant Pop Special. Hotties affixed to walls between dart boards and retro paneling. I, with my large pitcher in hand again (which I know everyone thinks is mad ghetto but I don�t givafuck). Bar is packed with all my friends that I would expect to see. I hastily consume a second pitcher, upon which time I am fucked the fuck up yo.
After the show we smoke out to further insult my appearance. My posture is slowly declining into what is a human cavity. My eyelids fold over like two hoods draping over my failing sight.
So, I ride with jane to meet Kevin and Everet at Fusions. I am Ritas at this point, mind you, as we find our way to the Home of Deborah Cox Remixes. At my criminal indescretion, I go to stand in line to get another beer. So like, I�m waiting behind these two black guys that are having a conversation in line. I am facing them and the bar and am rocking out independently, bobbing my head and such, quietly deciding on what drink will make me the least shit-faced.
Then the two guys start making remarks about me,�Umm yeah, I�m so sure. What the fuck kinda game is that.� �Hahahhaha,� the other one chuckles. Then, in a voice I cannot describe as anything else but sincere, the other admits, �She creepin me the fuck out dude.�
I�m thinking to myself what�s their fucking problem dude? Shit i�ts hard enough out there for us gay folks, why you gotsta bring the drama inside for? Never seen a kid with a mesh hat and an adidas jacket before? Upon which time a shame overwhelms me. A shame so incredible that in that instant I became sober, as I realized that the two men were not in line at all but simply talking near the bar while I am facing them, head bobbing through violent maneuver, staring at them wondering why the line is taking so damn long. Girl, you stoopit!
Upon returning home, I see my kitty, Bubbles, at the door step. I take a second to invite her in with a series of tongue clicks. But she moveth not. So I bend down to pick her up when I realize that she is eating something�like full on going to town with that shit. It was like benihanas yo. She wouldn�t even look up as I passed my fingers through her coat. I get closer to see exactly what she�s eating. At first it looked like a cockroach, then, it looked like a dismantled brown grass hopper. In the end I realize that it was fragments of finch. There was almost nothing left but a pair of wings and feet vaguely connected to tendons the color of this page. I gagged seismic gags all the way to the bathroom. I didn�t puke but I really thought I was going to have to. This morning when I told my parents they just dismissed it and related that, "Bird carcass is to Cat, what steak is to human." That sounds like an answer for an IQ test question, don�t it? fair enough then.