Quote:
Originally posted by Gattigap
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A cold December night found me at BadAss night at Knitting Factory. I was listening to the Ball Choir perform a particularly festive rendition of "Flaming Yule Log" while sipping felcheritas with Velocity Chyaldd and Ammo.
"If 2004 was the Year of the Whore, what's 2005 gonna be?" asked Velocity.
"Kiss 'em or kill 'em. Who cares?" replied Ammo. "Can I get another shot?"
Across the room, through the haze of the ongoing psycho burlesque rock n roll seduction party, I saw him enter, cold and shivering. I dodged my way through the knives, slaves, and hostages to offer him my coat, not even caring what the cleaning fee would be from the little vomitules of JW Blue around his neck and chest.
"Thanks," he said, eyes glistening as brightly as the melting droplets of snow on his hairless skin. "It's nice to see a friendly face around the holidays," he said while gesturing to his crotch and making bunny ear quotations with his other hand while he stressed "the holidays."
"A lonely time for you?" I asked.
"It didn't used to be. Snowballtinis at Beauty Bar, Afrojitos at Cielo, life was once one big party. It's almost like I was
somebody. Now I'm lucky for the random hook-up in a stall at the bus station. But it's not all that often I find someone passed out there."
His breath was overpowering, but then so was the effect of his luxurious eye lashes and menthylated epidermis. I took pity on him. I peeled his sickly skin from the vinyl upholstery and offered to walk him home. I cradled him in my arms through the snow as his head lolled gently over my shoulders and the contents of his stomach trailed behind us.
"Come upstairs with me," he said droolingly.
I sadly had to decline. I like getting creative in the kitchen, but only when I cook.
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