I lay in my bed. After the cop left I decided to walk back to my car and take it to Three Lions Pub. There was no one there I knew, and I was glad. I had a few Guiness and a couple shots of Jameson. After I got a decent buzz I decided to go home.
Here I sit, on my beige sheets in my twin bed looking up at a Marvelous 3 poster with a glass pipe named Luigi in my hand. A little bit of resin is left and I consider lighting it up and smoking it till it gives no more. I kind of wish there was a TV in my room, and I don’t want to go out into the living room and make my roommate think that I can hear what they’re doing in there. A TV: one more thing, right Mike? I laugh. It’s the first laugh I had all day and it takes a while to come down. I think about the security guard and the Scandinavian bimbos and I laugh harder. Then I think of Mike Winters’ story and my former job and I cry. The laughter and tears merge together to form deep heaving sobs in my chest. Luigi drops to the floor unlit and unused as I curl up into a fetal ball on my bed. The last lines of the song I was listening to this morning echo in my head as I drift into an uneasy dizzying sleep: “Why do we all end up alone? Why do we all end up dead, drunk, or stoned?”