Friday, September 28, 2012

Damsel in distress

Then I go in my room for my zeppelin and what the fuck, I can't find it anywhere. I know Champagne didn't take that, because she doesn't even smoke pot – my pot’s right in the drawer where it belongs, but where is the fucking pipe? I yell for Abby, do you have a pipe?
Abby’s wearing the ratty blonde wig, with a cute black dress and those wobbly heels, and for a minute I think about how funny it is that now we’re both turning tricks and fuck it I need a drink but the T’s going to close soon and I don't want to drive home again. Abby says she was going to take a cab anyway, it'll be her treat, okay let's go. Two cocktails at Luxor and I'm feeling much better, yes in spite of those bitches trying to throw shade our way — honey, you're going to have to keep throwing because I'm not catching it. So then I go over to Jacque’s with Abby and some guy comes right over to me and says how do I know what’s in your pants? Gross.
But he won't leave me alone — I'll give you 20, he says, I'll give you 20 just to see. A hundred is my starting point, I say, and he says what are you drinking. A Stoli madras, I say — and one for my friend.
Do you see what I mean? As soon as you start turning tricks, it happens all the time. Here I am at Jacque’s, just dressed in my normal clothes, I mean I'm not even wearing tights and some guy’s acting like he's really intrigued to find out what's in my pants. Apparently they don't have Stoli here — I can't tell if he's lying, or just cheap, but I drink the cocktail anyway and then he says I'll give you 20 just to see, like he hasn't said that twice already, and I guess that's cab fare since I'm already out too late, so then I hold out my hand for the 20, go in the bathroom and I unzip my pants, he gets on his knees like he's going to do something but I zip right back up, head over to the bar, and kiss Abby goodbye.
Yes it's the next day and honey I am strung out to hell — I’m rushing out of the house to get groceries, drive a few blocks but then I realize I forgot my grocery bags so I go back, run up the stairs to my room and there’s Champagne with an electric screwdriver, taking the lock off my bedroom door. What the hell are you doing, I say. Oh, she says, I didn't expect you to come back so soon. I'll put this back on the door.
I don't even know what to say I’m so shocked, or not shocked but irritated, enraged, what the fuck, but I need to get some broccoli and tofu before Bread & Circus closes so I leave the house anyway and then when I get home I look around my room to see if anything’s gone — I have no idea, really, so I go upstairs and knock on Sham’s door and when she opens I say I'm just going to look around and see if there's anything of mine in here. And she looks at me like she’s some damsel in distress but I start rummaging through her drawers anyway, sure enough there's another one of my t-shirts — look at this, I say, this one has my name on the label, and I hold it up to her face but she just puts her hand out like I'm the one giving her drama — I can’t even deal with looking at her anymore so I go back downstairs.
Then, in the morning, someone's causing a big scene in the kitchen which is pretty rare, I was worried about living with all these meat-eaters when I moved in but usually I'm the only one who cooks anything. Today I can smell the bacon grease from my room, and then I hear Shamboom’s giggle and it sounds like everyone is in there eating something she cooked, sure enough she’s saying Miss One, it's what a mother does — oh you bitch, you bitch, you fucking bitch!
Luckily I fall back asleep but when I wake up I go in the kitchen and it's like every pot in the house is lying on the counter, filled with bacon grease. How the fuck am I going to cook? Finally I take all the dirty pots and throw them in a garbage bag and put them outside on the porch, then I write a note that says clean your fucking dishes, and when Abby comes home I say this is ridiculous, we have to move out as soon as possible, okay?

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