I made the mistake of getting the Piña Colada flavoured slurpee. It tasted so thoroughly artificial that it made me feel almost nauseous, but my Taurus Rising kept me a'drinking it anyway. I don't think I've ever had a slurpee before and I doubt I'll have one again.
I labeled what happened next the "7-11 parking lot experience." We hung out briefly in the parking lot and made a lot of references to the "7-11 parking lot experience" we were supposedly having without doing much else. Sara made a half-hearted attempt at heckling some customers, and I watched a crow fly off with a french fry in his beak like cigarette. Jessika sat in the car, not participating in our "7-11 parking lot experience."
We went to the Downtown Mall and talked to Ana, Nemo and Ana's mother when we ran across them. Ana was in Germany until fairly recently. Things aren't going so well in Ana's non-marriage to Raphæl and she will be living alone soon.
We pissed away considerable time in a toy store on the Mall and also stopped by the Downtown Artspace briefly. Jenfariello was there, and she told me some interesting things about her experiences at Space Party II. It had been a lot of fun for her; she said she's never had so much fun in my house before. She and I have had sex there you know.
We went to Goth Central to learn all the juicy details, but alas, no one was there. We sat relaxing in the pleasant air on the front stoop of the apartment complex containing Goth Central. We were randomly met there by Morgan Anarchy, Bad Beef, Toni, Eddie the Ness and Toni's dog BN (short for Burlington Northern; he's a hobo dog: sharp as a tack, utterly mannerless and full of worms). We discussed the Huffanator's injuries and the fight that had precipitated them. It seems now that, near 14th Street on Wertland, Melanie had attacked Theresa and she'd fought back ripping off Melanie's shirt (exposing her "knockers") and beating the hell of her. That's when the Huffanator stepped in on his girlfriend's behalf. And that's when Persad attacked. Apparently he jabbled deep and then pulled the blade down, leaving a big gash. Sara was chattering about the stabbing continuously. She was postulating what various people's reaction to would be. The funniest postulation was about Matthew Hart. Matthew had apparently once claimed that Persad is "just a dork." The stabbing would no doubt increase his opinion of Persad enormously.
We went down Wertland and hung out across the street from the Dynashack, near my Dart. Eddie the Ness has quit drinking, and he's developed the personality of a used-car salesman, hustler or pimp: wheeling and dealing, and chit-chatting constantly, occasionally sliding into a contrived Hispanic accent. He had a lot of money today and was wanting to buy things. He offered me over $300 for my Dart.
I hadn't seen Bad Beef in a rather long time. He's gained a lot of weight and walking looks to be an ordeal for him. He and Eddie the Ness rolled a joint and we smoked it right there on Wertland by my Dodge Dart. Once I was stoned, my head swam with too many thoughts to recount now. I looked at BN the dog, and considered how he views the world. It's all one big tapestry of odours and chemical contents, some of which need to be sampled by taste as well. Nothing is too disgusting for him except alcohol. He runs around with mutilated animals and bloody tampons in his mouth. Should he see a cat, he gives chase immediately. Then I looked up at the birds and thought about how effeminate they seemed. Their fully three dimensional lives are so exiting and seemingly care free. Looking for more birds, I saw some crows and black birds hopping around from branch to branch in a gnarled old tree. These, I then thought, are clearly the birds of the "dark side." They are the goths of the animal kingdom: as birds they are weak and effeminate like goths. But as eaters of carrion and wearers of black, their affinity with death is also an important dimension to their Darwinian niche.
We took the elevator to the 5th floor, as we'd been instructed. We realized immediately that the sort of people hospitalized on the fifth floor are in pretty damn sorry shape. They are wheeled around flat on their backs with lots of IV tubes and a sheet over them up to their necks, always at the ready should it need to be pulled over their heads. I started feeling kind of sorry for the poor nazi.
We all went out into a great open-air balcony off the fifth floor and sat in the smoking section. Suddenly the girls were having second thoughts about whether they should visit the Huffanator at all. What could they possibly discuss with him? I jokingly wrote the musings aloud for them, saying, "We went to the hospital, but we chickened out at the last minute." So, with nervous steps, Sara and Jessika set off to visit the Huffanator while we boys continued to hang out on the balcony. I looked around at the others, the strangers, who relaxed and figgeted on the balcony with us. Some wore looks of despair. No doubt some of them had dying loved ones on the fifth floor somewhere.
Sara and Jessika had second thoughts as they approached the Huffanator's room. They looked in and saw the Huffanator's nazi but unbooted foot and some of his big scary redneck white supremacist friends. They chickened out again. But when they came back to us boys and we discussed it and they thought about it, they didn't want to go down in history as being such cowards. So again they went in and again we boys waited on the balcony.
The balcony is high above another roof over another sector of the hospital. Anyone so depressed as to jump from the balcony would surely die. There's an emergency phone plainly available. My guess is that it is partly intended for anyone contemplating suicide. Some people get awfully depressed about the gradual loss of a loved one. There's a rail on the edge of the balcony, and it's painted green. People stand with their elbows on the rail and survey the roofscapes below, perhaps distracted for a moment from the concern they are feeling.
Finally the girls visited the Huffanator. They lived to tell about it too. He'd been nothing but pleasant to them. He's on a morphine drip, and Jessika could see a heroinesque look to his eyes. Everything is pleasant when morphine courses through your veins. Even when you're a pissed off nazi skinhead.
The Huffanator referred to Persad dericively as "the Kid" and said he wouldn't press charges. No, he intends to settle the score his own way. Justice in the world of a nazi skinhead is not something dealt out by the official "justice system." It is a more primitive and noble kind of justice, where hands are made dirty and the interaction between plaintiff and defendant is highly interactive.
The girls emerged from their visit with the Huffanator much more somber than they'd set out. He'd been so pleasant that he'd apparently restored (to an extent) their assessment of his humanity.
They also talked about Persad. Poor Persad. He'd have to leave Charlottesville. The Huffanator is relentless and his "justice" is not something anyone would ever want to experience. Both Jessika and Sara had reassessed Persad's stabbing. Now it seemed like a foolish act. If he had wanted to settle his problems with the Huffanator, he should have just killed him discretely and disposed of the body.
We went to Goth Central again in a futile attempt to get Persad and Theresa's spin on the stabbing. Then we ordered a cheap pizza from Gumby's. I was unexpectedly wealthy and paid for most of it. We ate it in front of Two Moons Burritos (occupied Jerusalem). Two Moons is closed on Sundays, see.
They'd been putting it off all day, but inevitably the Malvernians took their leave and headed back to Malvern, Pennsylvania, Bri Bri had to go to work on Monday, see. I was left alone to cope with the wreakage of the weekend.
The Malvernians, especially Sara Poiron, had had a highly enjoyable experience on this particular visit. It had, after all, been like living as characters in a dramatic novel. To paraphrase someone famous, truth is stranger than fiction because we have no control over it. Now Sara is even talking about wanting to move back to Charlottesville so she can live "on Wertland Ave."
For some reason that defied all logic, the guy who accepts keg returns at Farmer Jack said that only one keg was mentioned on the receipt, even though I'd bought three on Friday night. So he'd only accept one back. I was amazed that by returning just three tubs and one keg (and no taps, mind you), I received a $104.50 deposit.
Josh Mustin picked up a case of Beast Ice and I bought a six pack of Labatt's Ice. We sat drinking these on the front porch of the Dynashack. Eventually we were joined by Will, then Elizabeth. Will and I were alone for a bit and he talked about the others. He thinks the Brazilian Girls and especially Jesse are cool, but he shares my opinion on Josh Mustin.
Josh Mustin is a brat. I mean, he really is a brat, not like Elizabeth (who I once called a brat in a fit of annoyance). But Cecelia takes no shit from him. When he said something about how the girls should have more sex with the boys, she threw a bottle at him. She threw it gently, but it smashed on the concrete anyway. Later I wanted to play my electric guitar amplified into the open air out in front and I had to forceably extricate it from his hands.
The little thug Chaz came up and talked with Josh briefly, and Elizabeth came down to tell me that I shouldn't tolerate him in the Dynashack front yard. I hadn't yet made the connection between the innocent looking lad and the name "Chaz," the evil perpetrator of ultraviolence. After she set me straight on who he was, I declared that he would be an easy mosquito to squash. Just as I said "squash" I stomped a can of Beast Ice with my boot.
I gradually became drunk. Morgan and his drifter friend known as Toni arrived. For what should to me have been obvious reasons, I was having a better with Will and Elizabeth than I was with my drunk & bored punk friends. I accompanied them on a mission to the Corner.
Before very late I evicted everyone from my room, latched my door, and went to sleep. Several people tried to get in, but (ha! ha!) they could not. I was so completely sick of socializing.
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