I woke up on the floor. A few feet away from the quickly growing pile of garbage. My head resting on an empty box of red wine. A half empty bottle of White Mischief Vodka nestled between my thighs. For safekeeping I guess.
Someone was standing over me, shaking me. Saying something over and over again. Something that may or may not have been my name. He could have been shouting though. I don’t know. Whatever the case he somehow managed to get my attention. Or was it a she? I vaguely remember thinking that she had really nice boobs.
Squeeze, squeeze, suck, suck. Hehe.
I giggled.
“Brian!”
My head snapped in the direction from which my name had come.
My forehead wrinkled in confusion. That was a dude’s voice. But that didn’t make any sense. Wait. I tried my best to concentrate really hard…and after a second, it may have even been thirty, I got it.
There were two of them. Butch and boobs. Balls and bras. Brawn and well…you get it.
“Dude, you need to get up.”
That was Balls.
“But I like it here. It’s nice and warm.”
“Come on.”
Balls grabbed my arm and tried to lug me to my feet but no matter how hard he tried I just wouldn’t budge.
And so he let go.
“I give up. The guy will get up when he wants.”
“Do you think he’ll be okay?”
That was Boobs. I think. I was already starting to drift off again.
“He’ll be fine.”
“Have you ever heard of someone overdosing on weed before?”
That was a pretty good question. Had he?
I was unconscious before Balls could answer.
“Just one piece.” Said the pretty girl with the pretty curls as I bent over the pan.
“Why just one?” I asked. It’s not like I didn’t know what was in it. I mean, the mission after all, was to get as fucked up as possible. And I was pretty certain that meant taking more than just one piece of the “Special Cake” or “Batch of Brownies” or whatever the hell it was.
I intended to take seven.
“One is more than enough,” Roselyn insisted, “Trust me.”
I looked from her back down at the pan. The cake was neatly cut into small bite size rectangles about 3 inches by 2. Shrugging, I took a piece. It was soft and spongy to the touch and started crumbling almost immediately. Not wasting any time I took a bite. Chowed down on the shit like my life depended on it.
Fuck it was good.
Soft and chocolaty with just a hint of it’s special ingredient. If I had any doubts about the rumors before, after that first bite, they were all laid to rest.
It would have been even better with a glass of milk but having to make do with what was available, I took a sip of my Vodka Tonic.
“Salut.” I said holding up my half eaten piece of cake as if for a toast.
“Salut.” Roselyn repeated, holding up her small disposable cup.
“You’re not going to take one with me?”
Roselyn shook her head.
“I’ve already had my one…I’m good.”
“Suit yourself.” I shrugged.
And the rest of the cake went down the hatch.
Hash Tag, Slice Number One.
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