alittlepoison

this is one that absolutely can’t wait for the dust to settle.

after a month’s sabbatical on a little island with a new age self development type couple being positive and receiving only positivity i figured the paranoia and the absurdity were over but the situation was getting a little pseudo-familial perverse and i was feeling nauseous and it was time to catch the bus.

i knew liz was going to be in town some time soon but i wasn’t expecting her, her brother and some friends to walk into the shitty bar where i was drinking, dressed up all nice and smelling a lot better than i did, and invite me to dinner.
we all had a laugh about the small world thing and tried to get the line from casablanca out right and wise cracked about anesthetic and subcutaneous homing devices implanted during festive embraces and yukked away over a couple of cute double-entendres and i got invited to dinner.
“i just stuffed my face with hamburger; you know i ate four hamburgers in forty eight hours and i drank a coupla pints just now and i’m stuffed and gassy but what the hell i could do without another evening on my own”.
and so we ended up in china town at some dumpling joint and of course there were more friends who were strangers to me and i could feel the sickness rising in waves from my guts.
we sit down and i’m sweating like a fucking pig god knows if they even sweat but i smell downright unwholesome and i got a raspy death-rattle cough left over from this cold i caught on the island and every coupla minutes i have a coughing fit and it’s all i can do not to spray mucus over these kids with perfect haircuts i never met before and i start to feel the paranoia for real.
so once the introductions are done through a cloud of airborne droplets exhumed from my sepulchral lungs i excuse myself because i gotta piss and blow my nose and get this coughing under some kind of control it’s really getting out of hand but in the toilets there’s only two urinals and one’s taken and i can’t go with someone standing right next to me least not when the fear’s setting in and the coughing’s got to where i’m pretty sure i’m going to vomit and i catch sight of my face in the mirror and it’s puce and dripping.
i’m saved!
a cubicle!
the little arc panel reads vacant in green script so i push but at the same time a big convulsion rips through me and slams the door open and it slams into some guy’s back who didn’t lock the door for fuck’s sake and now i’m feeling really wired and my head’s thumping so i give up on the idea of pissing and splash a load of water on my face trying to cool off and get out of there before cubicle guy emerges with piss over his trousers from when i inadvertently jolted him.
back to the long table past identical long tables of identical long people having b.y.o fun at great length but what now?
more friends of someone else have turned up and there’s some girl in a green dress with her identikit dike hair gelled up in a fin on her head in my seat so i take a chair to the end.
they stand up.
no i’d be happier sitting on the end honestly.
sit down!
i gone done it now.
this is worse than the last time i got really freaked out and called some waitress a pig-fucking whore.
no it’s not.
it’s funny.
it’s okay.
they’re laughing, a bit awkwardly, but it’s okay.
i know they can see the fear on my wet red face and yet the sadists insist on the introductions.
ms. green dress wants to do the hand shake thing but my hands are wet and they must have seen me come back from the toilet twitching and cursing under my breath so i wipe my hands on my trousers first but just look how i’m dressed for christ’s sake that looks even worse and the sweat stink coming off me and the alcohol breath and the red face so i kill time trying to explain the toilet incident i hardly even touched my dick let them share my discomfort laughter will cure this unsanitary situation.
but i have botched it and people are looking at me funny.
did i spend too long expounding upon my public urination neuroses.
fuck fuck.
i start coughing again i feel my brain’s gonna haemorrhage any second and goddamn this is an awkward situation.
salvation!
the chinese waitress in her cheap ill fitting uniform brings the dumplings over but this is worse than i could have imagined.
these things look like slimy molluscs from some deep sea trench of utter perversion and i feel nauseous and look away but only to see ms. green dress has an anchor tattooed on her arm. shit this can’t get any worse.
i’m starting to panic.
please god don’t let it say mother.
it says wilbur.
i am not in a fit mental state to assimilate this.
it cannot get any worse but i’m sure as hell not sticking around to find out.
i run pressed flat against the wall i keep running till i am out of china town and stop panting and retching until i’m finally calm enough to write it all down.