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I've been all over the place lately. At the beginning of the summer I was plowing through the Needles, Names, and Numbers drafts, ultima...

Sunday, April 30, 2017

Pet the Kitty

I can feel myself grow more and more socially retarded with each rotation. This has been a terrible mistake. Jack is the only one I know at this party, at least until Evan gets here. I don’t know if I’ve said anything besides “Hey, I’m Harry, nice to meet you.” And “Who’s lighter is this?” since we got here over an hour ago. I feel like I should be saying more things, being normal, not being weird. But all I can do is laugh when everyone else laughs and sip this empty beer uncomfortably.

Where the fuck is Evan?!!?!

This beer was complimentary, and I don’t dare ask for another. Most of us won’t turn 21 until next year, so alcohol is precious, at least until everyone goes back to school. I thought about getting some beforehand, but I didn’t want to spoil my appetite for tonight’s entrĂ©e: the Kizzle. I don’t know what to expect.

“It’s a game changer.” Was the only way Evan could describe it.

\I follow Keith back into his parents’ house and mumble something about him being fucking loaded as I shut the back door. Jack used to work with Keith and some of the other kids here, who all seem to go to the same party school out west. We go back to the basement where a few other strangers have shown up, but no sign of Evan.

Keith has new recording software to show Jack, leaving me adrift in a sea of unnecessary social anxiety. I’m not blaming him, I did sort of bring this on myself with all that god damn grass. I assume the position and scroll through my Facebook feed over and over, keeping both ears open for the sound of Evan and his Ketamine life-raft.

Sirs?!!?!” A familiar voice calls downstairs.


Evan comes downstairs like the complete opposite of me. He grabs hold of the room right away and starts shaking hands and kissing babies. Behind him are his girlfriend Catherine and his buddy Greg, who I’ve actually met and talked to before! Now that my brain’s bizarre demands have been met, the hostages have been released, and all is right with the cosmos.

Evan serves a couple of people before finally greeting Jack and I. He’s insanely charismatic, so much so that you can’t even be irritated by it. Not in the drug dealer disingenuous kind of way, either. You could walk in on him fucking your mother and an hour later you’ll be drinking craft beer together, yucking it up like best friends. As he takes off his backpack, Keith’s girlfriend approaches him with a beer.

“Oh, no thanks, I’m good.” Evan says.

“Oh, what’re you guys tripping or something?” Keith’s girlfriend replies.

“Ehhhh, we’ll see where the night takes us, you know, hehehe.”

“You sure you don’t want one?”

“Yeah, I can be kind of a beer snob unless I’m trying to get shitfaced, you know? I only drink like, the headies of beers.”

“Sorry our Rolling Rock isn’t to your standards, sir.”

“I’ll let it slide this time, hahahaha…”

Evan’s the only guy that can say something like “the headies of beers” and not sound like a douchebag. He looks around the basement and thinks before putting his backpack back on.

“Where are we doing this?” Catherine asks him anxiously.

“I don’t wanna get mobbed for this shit, you know what I mean? Hmmm… What do you say we go outside for a board meeting, sirs?” Evan suggests. He motions towards the basement stairs and we head up.

“So have you ever done this shit before?” I ask Greg.

“Yeah, I’ve done it a couple of times. It’s really hard to describe, dude… It’s just… Different form anything I’ve done before. Even like Acid and shit.” Greg replies.

“That’s what I’ve been hearing, sounds like a mind fuck.” I say.

“You guys are the only ones I know that go on three day acid benders, I think you can handle it.” Catherine reassures us.


The five of us cram into Greg’s car and Evan gets to work. Greg pulls a heavily scratched copy of Creed’s Human Clay from the dashboard and hands it to Evan, who dumps a small pile of powder onto it. Using his student ID, he chops the pile into five portions that look more like bumps than lines.

“I think it’s only right that our new cadets go first. Which one of you sirs would like to do the honors?” Evan asks.

I look over at Jack, who gives me a nod. I’m in the middle seat and closer to Evan by default. I take a deep breath as I carefully grab the CD and the straw. I’ve snorted a little bit of Molly and Adderall in my time, but this ritual still feels kind of taboo to me. I take my bump in one quick sniff, arching my head back as I pass the CD over to Jack. My eyes well up with tears as my nostril burns. I fight through it, blocking my left nostril and pulling the skin by my right one to the side. I take a few hard, painful, snorts before it breaks through the mucus membrane and shit starts to feel weird…

“Yo, Harry…” Jack says between gags. I take the CD from him and pass it to Catherine before zoning out again.

“Are you feeling it Mr. Krabs? Hahaha…” She says as she straightens out the bumps and pulls her hair back. I feel like I’m blackout drunk but somehow still in control. I watch Catherine do her bump like a god damn champion. She shivers slightly, blinks away the tears, and gulps down the drip like a shot of whiskey.

Oh fuck, that’s right…

The drip.


A slug made of mucus and street-grade cat tranquilizer slides down the back of my throat without warning. It’s worse than I expected, and Catherine seems to pick up on it. I cover my mouth as she opens her door and gets out of the car.

“Probably shoulda warned you, K drips are horrible.” She says.

I gulp down another slug and suppress the revolt in my stomach. I take a deep breath and my body begins to settle. “False alarm, I’m good!” I say as I lean back in my seat.

“Ugh, fuck! Euck! Aw that is fucking awful, dude! Worse than Molly!” Jack says in disgust.

“It grows on you.” Catherine mumbles sarcastically as she lights a cigarette.

“I think you sirs will find that the end justifies the means, hehehe…” Evan says.

“Yeah… Yeah I think you’re right… Hahahaha…” I mumble back.

“It feels like I’m really drunk… But better…” Jack says.

“You guys up for a little late-night stroll around the neighborhood?” Evan suggests.

Jack and I nod like zombies. Evan, Greg, and Catherine do another bump each before we get moving. Greg stumbles a bit before getting his bearings, laughing as he leans up against a tree.

“Get your sea legs, sailor! All aboard the SS Kizzle!” Evan laughs.

“I fuckin… You know how like, in Halo, when you jump, it feels like you’re fuckin’ floating?” I ask in the most retarded tone possible.

“Haha, dude! I said that exact same thing the first time I tried it!” Greg says, validating an observation that barely deserved an awkward silence. Greg’s not a dick like me and Jack. Come to think of it, most people aren’t…

The ground feels much softer now, and my limbs feel lighter. I’m functional, but spacey. They were right, it’s a bitch to try to explain. I might even say it’s a game changer.

“I’ve never really fucked with downers before. Is this what opiates feel like?” Jack asks the group.

“What, you mean like Oxy?” Catherine replies.

“Perc’s, oxy, whatever, I guess. I’ve never done any of those ‘cause of all the stories, y’know?” Jack says.

“Oh, yeah, totally. I was never big into them for the same reasons, but I dabbled a bit in high school. I don’t think you can really compare them, honestly. They’re both downers, but K is way weirder, haha.” She explains.

“Plus, it’s like who gets addicted to Ketamine? I never see it around here, even at school it’s rare.” Evan says.

“Can we chill on the corner for a minute? I gotta get the hang of walking and smoking at the same time.” Catherine asks.

“Yeah, sure.” Evan replies.

We all sit down on the curb and zone out as Evan roots through his backpack. Catherine starts playing music from her phone, Tiesto, Maximal Crazy. It’s been heavy in my rotation lately because I have awful taste in music. It’s like six minutes of my favorite part of another song looped over and over again.

“Yo, this is the DJ playing at school in a few weeks, right?” Evan asks.

“You’ve asked me that like three times this week. You know we have tickets, right?” Catherine replies.

“You sirs going to that show?” Evan asks Jack and I.

“I didn’t even know he was playing.” I reply.

“Yeah.” Jack says.

“Well you’re welcome to crash at my place if you want. I don’t know if you’re into that EDM shit but it’ll be a good time either way. I’m gonna make so much fucking money, dude, I can’t wait.” Evan replies.

“Word, if I can get work off I’m down.” I say.

“Yeah just keep me posted, no worries. How you guys feeling? Anyone want more?” Evan asks.





“Words!! Haha. Coming right up…” Evan replies.

“You brought Molly, right?” Catherine asks him.

“Would you like to buy some?” Evan asks sarcastically.

“I only want like a point…” She says.

“I’ve got it all bagged up into halves, though. If you really want it I’ll weigh it out but then I’m gonna have a .4 bag and we’ll end up doing it ourselves or ripping somebody off.” Evan says.

“I don’t suppose any of you guys want to buy any Molly?” Catherine asks us.

My wallet has been out since I heard the word Molly.

“Yup! What do you want for .4?” I ask.

“30 sound good?” Evan asks.

“Sold! Does it go well with this shit?” I ask as I hand Evan the money.

“Oh, dude… It’s unreal.” Catherine says.

“Word. I definitely wanna try that then.” I reply.

“You want me to throw a point in each of your lines then?” Evan asks.

“You down?” I ask Jack.

“Ehhhh… We’ve been rolling a lot lately… You’re gonna do it either way, aren’t you?” Jack asks me.

“Absolutely.” I reply.

“Alright, fuck it, yeah.” Jack says.

“Every time I chill with you guys we end up going wicked hard.” I say.

“Wait, were you guys trying to lay off the M for a while or something? I know how that goes, I don’t wanna give it to you if you’re trying to take a break, y’know?” Evan asks.

“Oh, no, it’s cool man. I was just saying how every time we chill it’s an adventure.” I reply.

“Yeah, I was thinking about that too. Every time I get a call from Evan I have to brace myself almost. Like I look over at the clock and then back at my phone, knowing if I pick it up I’m not gonna be able to say no. ‘Cause if I say no I’m gonna miss out on some crazy shit that only happens when you chill with Evan.” Greg says.

“This kid is the same way, dude. I swear it’s like a fuckin’ sitcom every time I get into his truck.” I say, pointing to Jack.

“Yeah, last time I got into Jack’s truck he was driving with a bowl in one hand, texting with the other, he had a beer between his legs, and was driving with his elbows. I was laughing too hard to be scared, it was weird.” Greg replies.

“Yeah he’s like one of those guys that rides a unicycle while juggling chainsaws and balancing a ladder on his nose. But when he sends a text he has to drop everything and have complete silence like he’s taking the fucking SAT’s.” I joke.

“I don’t need silence, that’s just me telling you to shut the fuck up. But you’re retarded and can’t take a hint so you just keep going. And you left half the SAT blank you fuckin’ idiot. Tell ‘em about how you bought Concerta from one of our friends because you thought it’d make you smart.” Jack says.

“First of all, that was the ACT’s, which don’t even count. I left the science section blank because I’m badass and cool, same reason I was on drugs when I did it.” I reply.

“You paid for Concerta? That sucks, dude! They can’t even give that shit away at my school.” Greg says.

“I don’t know why I thought it would help, half our lunch table was prescribed it and they were all retarded like Jack.” I reply.

“You know he took two years to pass algebra one?” Jack says.

“It was three, actually. I have a learning disability too, y’know. You should be more compassionate.” I reply.

“Wait do you really have like…” Greg begins, not wanting to offend me.

“Oh yeah dude, I’m dumb as shit. That’s the clinical term for learning disability, but I’m not a teacher or Jack’s mother so I just call it what it is.” I reply.

“Well, you’re half right…” Jack says.

“If Jack was better at school he’d be one of those potheads that think depression and ADD don’t exist. Can’t you picture him on Joe Rogan like ‘Hey maaaannnn, it’s natural for kids not to give a shit about school, it’s all big pharma maaaan, they put fluoride in your water to make you retarded but if you smoke weed you won’t even notice.’” I say in my half-assed Jack impression.

“Keep going Harry, come on, run it into the ground until everyone’s uncomfortable. You’re on a roll, fuck it up, you can do it! You make me wanna k-hole just to get away from your stupid bullshit.” Jack replies.

“Whatever, faggot!” I say, putting the final nail in the coffin and proving once and for all that my razor-sharp wit is unmatched in verbal fisticuffs. Evan is caught off guard by my stunning ignorance and nearly wipes out his assortment of powdered narcotics with his laughter.

“Woah, woah, woah, woah, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like faggot I meant like, y’know, the Louis CK bit where he doesn’t throw away my drugs please?” I say jokingly but not really. Evan has to put the CD down and collect himself. Where the fuck was this me when I was sperging out in the basement earlier?

Oooohhhh fuck… Oh, fuck. Ok!” I say as the K and Molly synergize beautifully in my head. They play so perfectly together, yin and yang. It’s like I’m rolling in space and I don’t really give a shit because I’m just so fucking happy. That’s all I got. Holy fuck stretching feels really good.

We go back to Keith’s house and pile into Greg’s car to smoke weed until one of us coughs up blood and/or loses consciousness. More lines are passed around, millions of brain cells are killed, and no good points are made by anyone. But it’s OK man, ‘cause like, we’re rolling!

“You guys wanna do some coke raps?! Let’s get some coke freestyles going, c’mon…” Evan says as he chops lines on an old leather book he took from Keith’s living room. It’s 2 AM and we’re sitting around a table on Keith’s back deck smoking weed and deviating our septums. I forget how Cocaine entered the discussion, since none of us have any and most of us haven’t even tried it yet. But that doesn’t stop Evan from laying down a beat with his hands and becoming a rapper before our very eyes.

“Cruisin’ down the street, lookin’ for that yay… Yo, it makes me cray!!” He spits with the confidence of a master composer that’s just finished his masterpiece. Everyone is too much of a pussy to step to him after he relinquishes the mic, but I strongly consider it, and I don’t even rap.

“Yo, you would be a good politician, dude.” I say to Evan.

“See!? I fucking told you, dude, everyone says that about him!” Greg says.

“He’s right, I do get that a lot, but I honestly don’t see it, haha…” Evan replies.

“The only thing holding you back is that you have a soul. You get rid of that and get used to lying you could be the fucking president, dude.” I argue.

“That’s exactly I’d never do it, though!” Evan laughs.

“Can you just humor me and say some politician shit? Then we can see how believable you are.” I ask.


“You know what I fuckin’ mean, just say something like… I have never, ever, said the n-word. Nor do I ever plan to. My fellow Americans.” It’s the most solid sentence my verbal diarrhea can come up with right now, but it confuses the rest of the table.

“I have never, ever, said the n-word. Nor do I ever plan to. My fellow Americans.” Evan says. I giggle childishly in approval. “I’d vote for that.”

As I suck cat tranquilizer off an expensive piece of literature through a dirty fast food straw into my nasal cavity where it isn’t supposed to go, a wonkiness overwhelms me, pushing me back into my chair and disrupting the connection from my brain to my limbs. If this isn’t the K-Hole it’s gotta be pretty damn close. Shit’s starting to look weird, everybody’s starting to sound distant. I stare up at the sky as I slump down in my chair. I don’t even notice Evan tapping Jack on the shoulder and pointing at me. I slide myself back up into a seated position, which requires more motor function than I apparently have. I hope I don’t have to stand up any time soon.

“Yo! Harry! Fuckface! You down there?” Jack yells from what sounds like thousands of miles away.

Jesus Christ I am fuuuuucked uuuuppp…. I know I have to answer him, but I think I forgot how to make words with my face hole. I feel like a stroke victim learning to speak again as my jaw refuses to cooperate. I take a deep breath and concentrate.

“What up…” I mumble weakly.

“Eat this.” Jack says, putting something in my hand. A tab of acid. I slam it into my mouth awkwardly, immediately feeling as if I’ve jumped the gun. Jack sticks his tongue out and shows me his tab. I weigh my options silently to myself.

I don’t think I can get this out of my mouth right now. I could spit it out like a fuckin’ retard but that’d be disrespectful to Keith’s parents’ home and Evan’s business. If I could get my hand in my mouth right now I’d still have to fish around for a tiny piece of paper with fingers that may or may not comply with my orders

Catherine checks her phone and I see the time: 3:15 AM. I swallow the tab. No sense in turning back now. All I can do is hope I regain control of my body before it kicks in. Worst case Ontario, I’ll have Jack hit me with an emergency bump of Molly to clear my head.

“Maybe I shouldn’t have just given that to him. I don’t think he realized what kinda commitment he was making when he did that.” Jack says as if I can’t hear him.

“You guys do this shit all the time though, right?” Greg asks.

“Haha, yeah… Yo Harry, you good?” Jack asks me.

I nod slowly like my neck is rusted. I can feel myself floating back into the real world slowly but surely. I clear my throat and smack my dry tongue around my dry mouth.

“I got this…” I say as I regain lucidity.

“You working today?” Jack asks nervously.

Oh fuck me, am I? Absolutely not, obviously. But was I supposed to? Shit…OK ,that’s right, I am off today. Thank fuck.

“Nah, I’m off.” I reply.

“Word, that’s good. Can I ask you one more question?” Jack asks.

I nod.

“What the fuck are we gonna do!?”

I sigh and laugh to myself as Jack and the rest of the table start to crack up. I haven’t eaten since hopefully yesterday, yeah, definitely yesterday. I can already feel the butterflies, I’ll be coming up soon. The K is beginning to fade more and more quickly, releasing its grip on my brain in what has to be the smoothest comedown of any drug I’ve ever done. As the K wears off and the L kicks in, I realize I’m fucking exhausted, dehydrated, and should be hungry. I rub my eyes in frustration and sigh before sitting back in my chair. Jack stares at me with a goofy smile that implies even he might regret this one.

“We’re really doing this, huh?” I ask, chuckling.

“Mhm…” Jack replies.

“Jesus Christ, hahahahaha… Aw, boy. This is gonna be a weird one. I can fuckin’ feel it.” I say.

“We should get back to your place before I start peaking.”

“Good call.”

As we rush to McDonald’s and the sky becomes a hypnotic, shifting, sea of color, Jack hands me the adapter to hook my iPod up to his stereo. I scowl at it and sigh.

“I might break this fucking thing if it doesn’t cooperate. Fair warning.” I say to Jack.

“Just try it, if it doesn’t work I got CD’s. I just need music right now, dude.” Jack replies.


“What? Cop?”

“No, no, no cops, sorry dude. But look at my fucking iPod!! When the fuck did that happen!?”

The screen on my iPod Touch is smashed, though still useable to a degree.

“Whoah, what the fuck? When’d you drop it?”

“I don’t remember ever dropping it!”

“Does it still work!?”

“Yeah… Fuck, dude!”

I leave it face down on the dash board and try to relax. I’ll deal with it once I’m finally off all these drugs. Shit is very much weird as I open the door to my living room and grab a couple of beers from the fridge. I sit down on the couch and put on Wanderlust while I can still read the TV. I sigh and crack my beer open.

“Awww here it goes!”