That silence that's followed by laughter. by: sexy plexy
and your ears feel the booming bass. you see the lights flashing, the television screens depicting images of eyes and a solitary palm tree on an island. the bar is sticky with dried booze. one song melts into another and the massive wave of people explode into a flurry of smaller waves as some move away from the dance floor and some approach it. your mouth is extremely dry. during the course of the evening you have ingested four pink tablets and, most recently, a blue one. you wonder what was in the blue tablet and who handed it to you. the lights flux with the music, with the movements. everything synchronized. some time has passed and you try to release your elbows from the sticky residue of the bar's surface. someone hands you a bottle of dasani. you notice that the label states "from french springs" but the bottle cap says "stored and bottled in milwakee". some song from moby's new album comes on. many yell obsenities, many accuse the d.j. of being a homosexual. the song is quickly cut off due to the popular demand aand replaced with something by crystal method. you wonder if the d.j. is a homosexual. you notice him, flawlessly handling the vynil circles. someone collapses on you. welcome to the end of the world.
time passes again, it seems to do this without you realizing it. you are outside, standing in a bitter, cold drizzle. someone hands you a cigarette, you are not sure if you asked for it or not. you place the cigarette in your mouth, your lips barely clinging on to it. you know you're supposed to do something with it but you can't remember at the moment. a girl is approaching you, you remember her from the unisex bathroom in the club. she was standing over the sink, spreading and cutting a white, crystaline powder over and over again with her skeleton hands. you remember entering one of the stalls. as you tried not to piss on your pant leg, you heard sharp inhales coming from the row of sinks on the opposite wall. you realized someone has written "mona is a crack whore" on the stall's divider in black marker. you exited the stall, and notice the girl over by the sink, her nose bleeding, the blood trickling down onto her plastered, jittery grin. you walked over to the paper towel dispenser and pulling some of the recycled brown paper out. you hand them to her, she notices her nose and says, "oh hey, thanks". as you are exiting you say, "no problem, mona".
so there she stands, in front of you. she smiles, her nostrils still red from dryed blood, and produces a lighter out of nowhere and brings it closer to your face. instinctively, you pull back. she looks at you strangely. you realize there is a cigarette in your mouth, you smile apoligetically and lean towards the flame. you forget to inhale and it takes several attempts to light the cigarette. when it is lit, it limps from the moisture caused by the drizzle.
you nod thanks and mona leaves.
in fred's honda, you realize that there are strange people in the backseat. you lean over to fred and ask, "who are these people?" fred replies, "just some girls i met inside, we're going over to my place, have a couple of drinks". you lean back to your side of the tiny vehicle. fred asks, "so did you find tony?" after a few moments of wondering who the fuck tony was you realize it was the man you bought the pink tablets from. "yeah, yeah i found him, he's lost weight..." you trail off. your stomach grumbles. hunger. you mention this to fred and suddenly realize the car has stopped. you look over at fred and ask, "why did we stop?" fred points at the macdonald's in front of the vehicle. you see the golden arches. "oh" you reply. fred is a good guy. he always feeds you, even in his apartment, which has nothing in the fridge except mustard.
macdonald's is the devil's advocate. you enter the establishment, and immediatly notice the smell. some would say it smells of fried food, some would say it smells like a rotting animal carcass that has been left out in the sun too long. you are so hungry you would eat either of these at the moment. you stand at the counter, which is also sticky. everyone that was riding in the car is seated at a table in the corner of the restaurant. you find yourself reciting everyone's orders, as if by heart, even though you cannot remember when or how you took everyone's orders. in your pocket sits the money that the passengers of the car gave you for their orders. of course, you do not know this, so you charge it on a credit card without giving it a second thought. the small table is crowded, the plastic seats holding several asses, which lie side by side. the food doesn't taste. you carefully remove the pickles even though you can't taste them. there is silence, because everyone is unwrapping their meals. then, laughter. you gather someone has said something funny. it is the silence that is followed by laughter.
in the small honda again. you look at the rug below you. it has pink gum stuck to it. the vehicle stops again. you are about to lean over to fred to ask why you have stopped when you realize that he isn't there. you are alarmed. what the fuck happened to fred? you are in a car with total strangers. where the fuck is my friend fred?!? you turn around slowly to face the window. you think that if you don't make any sudden movements the strangers in the backseat won't attack you. terror grips you. what the fuck is going on? oh my god. oh my god. oh my god! you hear the people suffling in their seats in back. i don't want to die! fuck! fuck! fuck! i don't want to die. you think of your mother. you think of your elementary school's playground. you think of the "A" you got on your biology final in high school. you think of your guidance counselor's face when you told her your plans for college, or lack thereof. the driver side door opens. this is it. oh my god. oh my god, this is it! fred enters the car with a grin on his face. relief. he's holding a brown paper bag. inside it, two glass bottles clank together. "woo! i picked up our best friend jack!" fred boldly states. you are confused, the people in the backseat roared. fred grins at you, motioning for you to grab the paper bag. you grab the bag and place it on your lap. fred looks at you and asks, "what's ammatah?" you look at his face, at the bag and then at the neon sign outside the vehicle that says "LIQUOR". you feel like calling your mother. "nothing, nothing", you reply. you flip on the radio, a song from moby clicks on. the people in the backseat groan, you quickly shut it off. you remember the d.j. at the club.
fred's apartment building. the elevator makes screeching noises as it nears the floor fred's apartment is in. you are all packed like sardines in the elevator. you notice a sign that says, "weight limit-6people." you think that there more than six people in the confined space. you wonder if your balls would go inside you if the elevator happened to fall. you think of a family trip you took as a child to disney land. you remember the roller coasters.
fred's apartment. you are on an old couch fred has had since college. it smells like an old person. the decoration is sparse. fred was never one for decorating, or for living in a civilized manner. he does, however, have an ACDC poster on a wall in his room. shot glasses are handed out and filled with Jack. "one! two! three!" said the people in fred's apartement in unison as the chuged the contents of the glasses. you realize that you were supposed to drink yours at the count of three a little too late, so you drink yours several seconds. this process is repeated several times. the bottles are nearly empty. music comes from space, no, it's fred's stereo. fred stands at the stereo and smiles mischeviously. he clicks on a C.D. and moby blasts from the speakers. everyone groans. fred laughs loudly and clicks moby off, replacing it with some brazilian music or something. it makes you sleepy. you feel a hand on your thigh. you trace the slender hand back to its owner and see one of the girls that were in the backseat of fred's car. people move fred's furniture so there is room to be drunk in. they move like wounded butterflies; and, despite the newfound space caused by the relocated furniture, fred bumps into a lamp. the next few seconds are in slow motion to you. the lamp slowly, slowly falls. you see the bulb making contact with the floor. the filament bursts. fred cheers, everyone follows suit.
fred's room. you are making love to one of the girls, you can't tell which. her skin is not really soft. she doesn't really have a nice body. she doesn't breathe the way you want her to. you can't tell if you're having sex with this girl or just making contact with her thighs. so you look down, and see that you are. then you look over at a wall, bored. you see the ACDC poster. from the living room you hear a doorbell. someone opens the door. the girl under you digs her nails into your back. you don't feel it. soon after the doors open, you hear shouts from an unknown voice. then, a shot. you vaguely wonder if it sounded like a gun. you continue making love to the girl, not sure how long you have been at it. the girl says, "oh my god!" in a whisper. she dives out from under you and falls to the ground, producing a low thud. you hear a yell from outside, "what the fuck was that?!?" some people in the living room whimper. you scramble to your feet. the door to fred's room is opened, revealing the silhouette of a very large man. you are grabbed and dragged to the living room. you are thrown by the man onto fred's old couch. you realize by the cold that you are still naked. you notice another, equally large man standing by the door, fred and the other people cowering in the opposite corner. fred is bleeding. the man that dragged you out of fred's room leans close to you, he smells like a rotting animal carcass that has been left out in the sun too long, or fried food. "WHERE THE FUCK IS MY MONEY?!?" he yells. you look around confused. he looks at you, waiting for an answer. you don't know what to say so you say, "i don't know." the man hits you with the butt of his gun. he walks over to the crowd of people that are cowering by the corner. you notice the broken lamp next to them. the large man grabs fred, throws him on the ground, aims his gun, and shoots him in the head. there are slight yelps. then silence. you remember the macdonald's, how everyone was quiet when they were eating then someone had said something funny and there had been laughter. that laughter that followed the silence. so you laugh. there, naked, sprawled out on a couch that smells like an old person, you laugh. then the second man, the one which had been standing by the door approaches you and
time passes again, it seems to do this without you realizing it. you are outside, standing in a bitter, cold drizzle. someone hands you a cigarette, you are not sure if you asked for it or not. you place the cigarette in your mouth, your lips barely clinging on to it. you know you're supposed to do something with it but you can't remember at the moment. a girl is approaching you, you remember her from the unisex bathroom in the club. she was standing over the sink, spreading and cutting a white, crystaline powder over and over again with her skeleton hands. you remember entering one of the stalls. as you tried not to piss on your pant leg, you heard sharp inhales coming from the row of sinks on the opposite wall. you realized someone has written "mona is a crack whore" on the stall's divider in black marker. you exited the stall, and notice the girl over by the sink, her nose bleeding, the blood trickling down onto her plastered, jittery grin. you walked over to the paper towel dispenser and pulling some of the recycled brown paper out. you hand them to her, she notices her nose and says, "oh hey, thanks". as you are exiting you say, "no problem, mona".
so there she stands, in front of you. she smiles, her nostrils still red from dryed blood, and produces a lighter out of nowhere and brings it closer to your face. instinctively, you pull back. she looks at you strangely. you realize there is a cigarette in your mouth, you smile apoligetically and lean towards the flame. you forget to inhale and it takes several attempts to light the cigarette. when it is lit, it limps from the moisture caused by the drizzle.
you nod thanks and mona leaves.
in fred's honda, you realize that there are strange people in the backseat. you lean over to fred and ask, "who are these people?" fred replies, "just some girls i met inside, we're going over to my place, have a couple of drinks". you lean back to your side of the tiny vehicle. fred asks, "so did you find tony?" after a few moments of wondering who the fuck tony was you realize it was the man you bought the pink tablets from. "yeah, yeah i found him, he's lost weight..." you trail off. your stomach grumbles. hunger. you mention this to fred and suddenly realize the car has stopped. you look over at fred and ask, "why did we stop?" fred points at the macdonald's in front of the vehicle. you see the golden arches. "oh" you reply. fred is a good guy. he always feeds you, even in his apartment, which has nothing in the fridge except mustard.
macdonald's is the devil's advocate. you enter the establishment, and immediatly notice the smell. some would say it smells of fried food, some would say it smells like a rotting animal carcass that has been left out in the sun too long. you are so hungry you would eat either of these at the moment. you stand at the counter, which is also sticky. everyone that was riding in the car is seated at a table in the corner of the restaurant. you find yourself reciting everyone's orders, as if by heart, even though you cannot remember when or how you took everyone's orders. in your pocket sits the money that the passengers of the car gave you for their orders. of course, you do not know this, so you charge it on a credit card without giving it a second thought. the small table is crowded, the plastic seats holding several asses, which lie side by side. the food doesn't taste. you carefully remove the pickles even though you can't taste them. there is silence, because everyone is unwrapping their meals. then, laughter. you gather someone has said something funny. it is the silence that is followed by laughter.
in the small honda again. you look at the rug below you. it has pink gum stuck to it. the vehicle stops again. you are about to lean over to fred to ask why you have stopped when you realize that he isn't there. you are alarmed. what the fuck happened to fred? you are in a car with total strangers. where the fuck is my friend fred?!? you turn around slowly to face the window. you think that if you don't make any sudden movements the strangers in the backseat won't attack you. terror grips you. what the fuck is going on? oh my god. oh my god. oh my god! you hear the people suffling in their seats in back. i don't want to die! fuck! fuck! fuck! i don't want to die. you think of your mother. you think of your elementary school's playground. you think of the "A" you got on your biology final in high school. you think of your guidance counselor's face when you told her your plans for college, or lack thereof. the driver side door opens. this is it. oh my god. oh my god, this is it! fred enters the car with a grin on his face. relief. he's holding a brown paper bag. inside it, two glass bottles clank together. "woo! i picked up our best friend jack!" fred boldly states. you are confused, the people in the backseat roared. fred grins at you, motioning for you to grab the paper bag. you grab the bag and place it on your lap. fred looks at you and asks, "what's ammatah?" you look at his face, at the bag and then at the neon sign outside the vehicle that says "LIQUOR". you feel like calling your mother. "nothing, nothing", you reply. you flip on the radio, a song from moby clicks on. the people in the backseat groan, you quickly shut it off. you remember the d.j. at the club.
fred's apartment building. the elevator makes screeching noises as it nears the floor fred's apartment is in. you are all packed like sardines in the elevator. you notice a sign that says, "weight limit-6people." you think that there more than six people in the confined space. you wonder if your balls would go inside you if the elevator happened to fall. you think of a family trip you took as a child to disney land. you remember the roller coasters.
fred's apartment. you are on an old couch fred has had since college. it smells like an old person. the decoration is sparse. fred was never one for decorating, or for living in a civilized manner. he does, however, have an ACDC poster on a wall in his room. shot glasses are handed out and filled with Jack. "one! two! three!" said the people in fred's apartement in unison as the chuged the contents of the glasses. you realize that you were supposed to drink yours at the count of three a little too late, so you drink yours several seconds. this process is repeated several times. the bottles are nearly empty. music comes from space, no, it's fred's stereo. fred stands at the stereo and smiles mischeviously. he clicks on a C.D. and moby blasts from the speakers. everyone groans. fred laughs loudly and clicks moby off, replacing it with some brazilian music or something. it makes you sleepy. you feel a hand on your thigh. you trace the slender hand back to its owner and see one of the girls that were in the backseat of fred's car. people move fred's furniture so there is room to be drunk in. they move like wounded butterflies; and, despite the newfound space caused by the relocated furniture, fred bumps into a lamp. the next few seconds are in slow motion to you. the lamp slowly, slowly falls. you see the bulb making contact with the floor. the filament bursts. fred cheers, everyone follows suit.
fred's room. you are making love to one of the girls, you can't tell which. her skin is not really soft. she doesn't really have a nice body. she doesn't breathe the way you want her to. you can't tell if you're having sex with this girl or just making contact with her thighs. so you look down, and see that you are. then you look over at a wall, bored. you see the ACDC poster. from the living room you hear a doorbell. someone opens the door. the girl under you digs her nails into your back. you don't feel it. soon after the doors open, you hear shouts from an unknown voice. then, a shot. you vaguely wonder if it sounded like a gun. you continue making love to the girl, not sure how long you have been at it. the girl says, "oh my god!" in a whisper. she dives out from under you and falls to the ground, producing a low thud. you hear a yell from outside, "what the fuck was that?!?" some people in the living room whimper. you scramble to your feet. the door to fred's room is opened, revealing the silhouette of a very large man. you are grabbed and dragged to the living room. you are thrown by the man onto fred's old couch. you realize by the cold that you are still naked. you notice another, equally large man standing by the door, fred and the other people cowering in the opposite corner. fred is bleeding. the man that dragged you out of fred's room leans close to you, he smells like a rotting animal carcass that has been left out in the sun too long, or fried food. "WHERE THE FUCK IS MY MONEY?!?" he yells. you look around confused. he looks at you, waiting for an answer. you don't know what to say so you say, "i don't know." the man hits you with the butt of his gun. he walks over to the crowd of people that are cowering by the corner. you notice the broken lamp next to them. the large man grabs fred, throws him on the ground, aims his gun, and shoots him in the head. there are slight yelps. then silence. you remember the macdonald's, how everyone was quiet when they were eating then someone had said something funny and there had been laughter. that laughter that followed the silence. so you laugh. there, naked, sprawled out on a couch that smells like an old person, you laugh. then the second man, the one which had been standing by the door approaches you and