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the block. Heather? Who knows?
Who cares? I’m birthday partying
with the monster, and we’re
starting right this minute.
OMG. The rush is beyond
what I expected—hot then
cool, and my head lights up
like casino neon. Startling.
Another whiff. Double or
nothing, two somehow more
than twice as good as one.
I open my window to
let the smoke escape,
notice Scott’s car come
puttering up the street.
Can I get away with one
more? [Go for it, quick!]
I turn on a fan, spray a
big dose of Ozium, dash
to the bathroom to do
the big three—you know,
shit, shave, and shower.
Crude? Yeah. And bound to
get cruder as the evening
progresses. It’s Bree’s
birthday too, and for
a change I’m going to
let her cut loose. After all,
you only turn eighteen once.
All Spiffy
