Purple Pumps smiles at something I say. I’m not really sure what though- nothing seems to be making much sense right now. Words seem to tumble one over the other fighting to get past my lips, entire sentences spooning themselves into misconstrued meanings that still somehow manage to elicit if not a full out laugh then at least a halfhearted one. Though to be honest, I suspect that she’s laughing more at how stupid I’m making myself look rather than at what I’m actually saying.
But whatever gets the job done right?
“You’re funny.” She says. I think. I can’t really hear what’s she’s saying with all the muffleness that’s going on with my ears but I do try my best to read her lips. A skill I picked up quite sometime ago. I’ve been partying for a pretty long time now you see. Tools of the trade and all of that. But even that is an up hill battle with all the funny shit that’s going on with my eyes.
Would someone please turn off those fucking strobe lights? What is this? A techno club…?
Shit, I must have said that out loud. Purple Pumps is looking at me funny.
“What do you mean you’re glad you didn’t shit on me?”
Wait, that’s what I said? Wait…what?
“No, no, no. I said ‘I’m glad I didn’t spit on you.’”
From her expression I can tell that doesn’t make much of a difference. Both are the expelling of a not so nice bodily fluid after all. Or rather bodily fluid and semi-fluid. “Semi” being most of the time anyway. There are those bombs that you drop sometimes that feel like you’re trying to force a fuckin’ bowling ball out of your ass. And don’t play dumb; you know the ones I’m talking about it.
I can tell that I’m losing her. I need to say something quick. Think, think, think…
“The cake, have you tried any?”
Purple Pumps shakes her head.
“No. I don’t do drugs.”
Oh…so she was one of those…wait for it…snootynosedjudgmentalbitches.
“Excuse me?”
Shit…I have to stop doing that. I rub my forehead with the index, middle and ring fingers of my left hand. My thumb massaging my temple.
I should let it go, I really should but…
“I said ‘you’re one of those snooty nosed judgmental bitches who pretends to be all holy and uppity and shit but sucks dick whenever she thinks no one is looking.’ Well guess what honey, people are always watching so FUCK YOU!”
I turn to walk away but think of something. Pulling at the front of her top I pour my drink down it, throw the empty cup over her shoulder and then walk away.
I know I’m going to pay for that, boy am I ever but the only thing on my mind is “BITCH. I. AM. BOSSSS.” That and, “I sure hope there’s still some cake left.”
And with that I make my way towards the drinks, the cake and what I’m sure is a shit load of trouble.
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