Hey Dave, did I ever tell you about the time I blacked out at my cousin’s 8th birthday party?
No? Well it was one of those long, long hot summer days. You know the ones where it seems like the sun is just all coked out and rolling on ecstasy and is just too happy to be out? Yeah, just like that. Now well here I am just miserable watching all these fucking little kids run around, giggling like retards as I’m sweating my balls off in this sticky heat--they couldn’t have picked a worse day for this spectacle of a celebration. The only good thing about this party were these awesomely fantastic, sugar dipped vanilla doughnuts. Biting into one of these… it was just like, OH. MY GOD! It was like Jesus had just dipped his balls in my mouth.
About 25 of these things later I start to feel a little sick. Well, actually, a lot sick. The sun no longer stroked and pounded me with its clammy mugged hands. Something much more terrible and dark had a grip on me now. I broke into a cold sweat as my stomach started to vomit, which I could feel I would be doing in a second.
I get up and stagger towards the port o potty. I don’t get half way before I hear the sound of shattered glass. That’s the last thing I remember. The next thing I know there’s a big splash and I’m soaked sitting in a stagnant puddle in some vast sewer pipe. I couldn’t remember short of anything after dropping my drink—and now I was in a dark dank sewer—and my anus hurt.
Are you getting all of this, Dave? Good. Now, so hear I am, sitting in this stinky old aqueduct sewer pipe, and before I can start to even try to piece together what just happened, I see this furry shivering thing out in a far off corner. It was a giant albino rat.
No, yeah, this motherfucker was as big as me when it stood on its hinds. It was just this big straggly white, red eyed albino rat fucker. Yeah—I know.
So this fucker just poops out of the shadows, literally. “HEY MAN,” he says as he slowly walks out from his little cornered space, dropping giant turds the size of footballs as he walked. “You got any that JD?!” is the first thing he says to me. It looks like he’s about to jump out of his furry skin.
“No, no sorry,” I tell him.
“Oh well, ok, I got some though—you want some?” he asks politely.
“No,” I tell him, “no I’m good—thanks though—I heard it rots your teeth and…
“Yea if you smoke it,” he explains. “But I’ve developed a new method of administration that’s completely safe!”
He starts to shake heavily all over, his wild red albino eyes beam and glint as he quivers with pent up anticipation. He can tell I’m almost as nervous as him.
“Well… how does it—”
“OH!” he interrupts, “ITS COMPLETLEY SAFE! First you shave a little of it off into a spoon licking the spoon first of course then burn the spoon for approximately five seconds—or until it turns a light, golden brown—then hold it directly under your lower lip blowing on it from your nostrils to cool it down once it starts to clump you’re in business. If it starts to turn dark yellow and crispy you’ve done something wrong.” He takes a shallow breath. “Once it hardens and you’re in clumpsville, you mold it into a nice little ball and stick it up your butt… its harmless, look Iv got two all ready to go!”
I glance at the two oval suppositories in the rat’s hand. He’s still vibrating like a ten-dollar electric dildo.
“Here, watch,” he says as he drops down on his back and curls his posterior towards his chests and gently slides the drug in with a long bony rat finger. He lets out a pleasurable squeak. “And that’s all there is to it.”
Back on his feet he offers me the second one. I think about it and assess the situation. It seemed that someone already had stuck something up my corn-hole today, so what the heck, go big or go home, right? So seeing no harm in this kind gesture, I dropped my pantaloons and said hello.
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We sat in the clammy sewer watching the alligators wrestle for scraps as the walls hyperventilated. We were feeling pretty good, real spry like. At this point I found out the rats name was Steve, and I guess he wanted to break into the fashion industry a few months prior by moving to New York, which he then lived for a couple of weeks in a small loft before returning back to this underground sewage system. “I decided New York didn’t have what I was looking for, and besides—this place is cleaner,” he explained to me.
So then after awhile of mindless banter, and being unable to stay on one topic before getting sidetracked by more banter, and then forgetting what we were just talking about, we decided to see if we could somehow wrestle a couple of the gators into some sort of tame domesticated submission. Then we could ride them around like horses.
We jumped on the first pair of mangy gators we saw. I managed to get one in the Walls of Jericho, where he promptly submitted, thus formfitting his life to me.
With a few swift gymnastic maneuvers, Steve had his gator pinned to the sewer floor crying uncle.
They saddled like a dream. Steve even had a few oversized cowboy hats lying around too. We looked like true cowboys of the sewer system. Nobody fucked with us. One look at our gators sent them running for the hills. Yeah, we had it made. The moon was our lover, and our pet.
