Party at the glamorous house.
A nervous boy stared at me, his testicles slowly vacuuming into themselves, his dick shivering in between his legs for safety, his voice growing higher as the vacuum raged on.
"You're not gonna...DRIVE, are you?"
I knew if I lied to this scared shit I might just preserve his dignity.
I gazed into his frenzied eyes with a smirk which served to imprison a laugh with thin chains.
"Why?"
Close enough. I started for the door. There's no sense in appealing to these people now. They're in the past. Dim headlights in a rear view mirror. And me? A speeder, of course. But no, not like this.
I got into the car and laid my head back in silence, peering from my left eye at the house I had just abandoned, still lit up with the festivities of a great, and young celebration.
A celebration I had no business with. But aside from abandoning such an exciting soirée, I had also abandoned four dear staples in my heart.
The first, a fragile man with a fragile brain, one not to be manipulated as it had been an hour or so ago. Probably scared shitless, like the nervous boy's precious organs as it watched his family jewels be vacuumed into a fine dust.
My fragile friend was surrounded by people he could not understand and was as lost as a man in the right place could be.
My regards to him, I suppose.
Second, in contrast, was a boy who's mind functioned better under manipulation. It was high wired. Last I saw of him he was being carried around the house, surrounded by a sea of confused stares. A parade on the wrong street. Hats off.
Third, who the fuck knows, and fourth, a tray of miniature hotdogs.
I felt like the lone survivor of a sinking ship, escaping on my life boat as I watched the ocean swallow the great parter of waves whole, similar to the way I had planned to devour those hotdogs.
What the fuck am I talking about? I have no time to reflect on these dim headlights, nor can I sympathize with the sad tale of an aquatic escape artist.
I drove off, the destination only a few blocks away, I had nothing to worry about. No music however, focus is imperative.
My toes touched the pedals of the car like an unsettled man testing the temperature of his pool.
Slow fast brake fast slow fast.
At least that's how I had perceived it, but the interns living in the logical part of my brain, assured me that I had actually been driving perfectly pedestrian.
My plan for the destination I was approaching, was to indulge my mind with more manipulation. When I arrived at a small, cozy cottage tucked in between trees and fence, otherwise known as my destination, I could see that had already begun. A small, warm room with a rug and a sofa, four very loud people, three close to being devoured by laughter, one evacuating their stomach collections, causing the other three to fall harder into laughter, including one whom had been sprayed by such evacuations. There also sat a psychopath I knew as friend, and a foxy girl as loud as the rest. There I would remain until morning, when I would awake on the sofa, foxy girl at my feet.