COLD

There, but for the grace of g--, go I. She wasn't causing any trouble. She wasn't bothering anybody. But the people were bothered.

"You have to go."

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah. But you have to go."

"It's cold."

"It is."

They kept calling her the crazy lady, but I found her to be charming. Told me I was sophisticated and asked me about my girlfriend. All the inane stuff everyone else talks about. Just her being there made my tips plummet. My well-being depended on her absence.

"You have to go."

"Can you give me a hug?"

"Bye."

Slangin' Cake Farts

I got way too high. That's what I like about vape pens: discretion. You just go around the corner and all of a sudden you're high. But they usually hit you light and you usually have to take a few puffs before you can be sure you got something. But this one hit me like a bong rip. Expanded my lungs so I breathed out more than I took in. 

This was after the guitarist played enough to make all the bar guests buy more drinks. After the three Mexicans came in and showed me that video of a naked chick baking a cake. So I one-upped them by showing them cake farts. Two things everyone loves, chocolate cake and naked chicks, ruined. They hung on right up until they saw that ass hole open up and then they screamed as in submission. 

This was after the snafu with the drink tickets: "Tickets are only for draft beer." "What's on draft?" "The tap is broken." Then what do these get me?" "Box Chardonnay." After the Japanese exchange students had a birthday party in the corner and gave us all their extra cake. After whole day goes by and all the weird shit and running around, the guitarist hands me a pen and says, "Want some?"

"Yes I do."

And then I shut the fuck up for the next halfhour to an hour. Time loses all meaning and I know I can't talk to anyone or I'll forget what the fuck I'm doing. I'll stand in the middle of the room and stare off, knowing I'm forgetting something but not being able to figure out what it was. Just gotta get the fuck outta there. 

I clock out and just hang for a minute because I feel bad for getting quiet that last hour. I shoot the shit but I'm no good at conversation when I'm high, and I let him know.

"I lost that entire last bit of what you said," I tell him. "I was hanging on until you mentioned the shit about your phone and then I just checked out." That pen really snuck up on me. 

I worry about the front desk guy catching on to me and he's just worried about the pissed off guest who lost his house in a fire. Now he needs a room with two rooms. But all of our rooms only have one room.