...continued...
I decided to dress to kill and go out on the town and have a look see. Its my favorite thing to do some nights. Suck down some blow and some E and then walk and smile at all the lonely people. Where do they all come from? Now, the next big question of the evening: to tie or not to tie? Whether tis nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and knottings of outrageous fashion or to take armband against a sea of fortune? Who can decide these things without drugs? Not I, said the fly.
Is there anything quite as nice as the sudden rushing jolt of amphetamine powered decision? Tie it is; I chose a gaudy concoction of silk and design that, in my opinion, perfectly set off the ensemble I had assembled scant moments before. My fingers flew over the knots and I decided that the first E had been made for just such a time as this.
There is no question about it, after a little crystal has lubricated the palate, the E slides down the throat and nestles in the lining of your stomach and calmly goes about its business of making you the happiest bugger this side of a television sitcom audience member. The best thing, with your common brand of XTC, is that there is no down side, just a pleasurable rush and a chemically inspired joy. Is there a man on earth who can deny the simple pleasure of the milk of human kindness flowing through the veins; as every wonderful feeling of pleasure pulses through the capillaries and byways of the blood stream? All the while the crystal tells you that youll not only live forever but that youll never sleep again. Waking dreamer that you are, every impulse is good and safe in a calmly neurotic way. A joy that makes one realize how little reason there is to be awake when not as blessed as this. My other jagged little pill went into my upper shirt pocket which, when buttoned, became the ultimate hiding place for narcotic pleasure.
Gone are the days of the needle and the fix. Now is the summer of our good content, now is the time for all good men to stand, now before the clock ticks out its seconds into the unfathomable depth of your pleasure, bwana. I looked in the mirror at my creation and it was good. I really set off a pair of two-tone wingtips well; can I say that without blushing? Ah, I see I did. In a brown zoot and chain, Polluck-ian tie. Together I was a vision of loveliness that denied God and man the pleasure of my company for the evening. Am I a dandy? Only in the sense that itd be just dandy to meet me.
I imagine meeting myself for a while but I am so charming that I instantly hate myself for being so wonderful and I have to leave. I glance around my squalid flat and notice that some fool has thrown all of my bedclothes on the floor. I straighten up my bed a bit and leave for a slice of the nightlife.
Do I strut? Its a question I have asked myself time and again to no satisfactory answer. Could anyone blame me for it? That I can answer in one word, absolutely not. Who could deny that I have every right to strut, every right to walk on my hands if I so choose? (Such lovely hands they are.) Such a lovely evening, it certainly is nice for me to be out in it. After all, who else could make this evening such a wonder for everyone else? I really set off an evening. Can I say that without blushing? I check in a shop window and see that I can. Would a cane be too much? Who can tell in this world of relativistic values and the slothful impulses that drive our current economy? What with one thing and another I must say that a cane, while I might set it off well, really doesnt seem to be working for me, at least mentally. My deepest and most sincere apologies go out to the cane manufacturers of the world. Some things cannot be.
As I strolled jaunty-jolly down the street, as per my doctors orders, I noticed that the evening had come into full bloom. Only the frequent placement of streetlights scythed the nights dark cloak and revealed the inhabitants of the inky night. Such lovely inhabitants all dressed for a night on the town; all of them recognizing, with infinite gratitude, the honor of being on the same planet as I.
A dazzling smile bedecked my lips and seemed to say, Ah, this is the stuff! Verve and aplomb, those were the very words that seemed to stream from my jaunty step and envelop the world around. All was right with the world; God was in His heaven and so on.
In my perambulations I ran across what might be called a seedy dive and I stopped in to examine its dank and despairing interior. On crossing the threshold however I was accosted (if that is the word I want) by a group of large men, or they may have been gorillas. They lifted me right off my feet and were about to heave me out of the doors when a liltingly feminine voice bade them to desist. As a single organism they turned me round and what was mine to behold, but a female lovely. Not, let us be honest here, as lovely as I am. I cant check to see if I am blushing now, but wouldnt it be embarrassing if I were? What a story to tell all the kids at the club. She was lovely though, nonetheless.
She was gracefully attired in a shockingly red evening gown that was cut rather lower than the seasonal cool would have allowed on anyone whose body left any slightest thing to be desired, hers didnt. Her dark brown hair rolled in waves over her back and was styled to look like the three grandest of the Seven Wonders of the World; it was a chestnut ocean of follicular glory. Her eyes were hazel with gray flecks, but as wide and as deep as the sea. What worlds revolve around that nose? as the poet once said. I do believe that at mere first glance I was very nearly smitten. She was not I, but she did have an awful lot going for her. The only drawback to the situation was that she seemed more than somewhat interested in what I was doing in her place and less with how wonderful I was. Her trained gorillas seemed desirous of rumpling my shirt; all told it wasnt a pleasant few moments. I convinced her that I meant no harm and she had the pug-uglies search me. They came up empty-handed, for which I was glad, because if they were some sort of undercover narcotics group then I would have been rather badly off. Fortunately they passed right over my precious pill of pleasure. I have never been told to Wipe that smile off your face! so many times in one evening in my life. Id like to state that up front.
...To Be Continued...
I decided to dress to kill and go out on the town and have a look see. Its my favorite thing to do some nights. Suck down some blow and some E and then walk and smile at all the lonely people. Where do they all come from? Now, the next big question of the evening: to tie or not to tie? Whether tis nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and knottings of outrageous fashion or to take armband against a sea of fortune? Who can decide these things without drugs? Not I, said the fly.
Is there anything quite as nice as the sudden rushing jolt of amphetamine powered decision? Tie it is; I chose a gaudy concoction of silk and design that, in my opinion, perfectly set off the ensemble I had assembled scant moments before. My fingers flew over the knots and I decided that the first E had been made for just such a time as this.
There is no question about it, after a little crystal has lubricated the palate, the E slides down the throat and nestles in the lining of your stomach and calmly goes about its business of making you the happiest bugger this side of a television sitcom audience member. The best thing, with your common brand of XTC, is that there is no down side, just a pleasurable rush and a chemically inspired joy. Is there a man on earth who can deny the simple pleasure of the milk of human kindness flowing through the veins; as every wonderful feeling of pleasure pulses through the capillaries and byways of the blood stream? All the while the crystal tells you that youll not only live forever but that youll never sleep again. Waking dreamer that you are, every impulse is good and safe in a calmly neurotic way. A joy that makes one realize how little reason there is to be awake when not as blessed as this. My other jagged little pill went into my upper shirt pocket which, when buttoned, became the ultimate hiding place for narcotic pleasure.
Gone are the days of the needle and the fix. Now is the summer of our good content, now is the time for all good men to stand, now before the clock ticks out its seconds into the unfathomable depth of your pleasure, bwana. I looked in the mirror at my creation and it was good. I really set off a pair of two-tone wingtips well; can I say that without blushing? Ah, I see I did. In a brown zoot and chain, Polluck-ian tie. Together I was a vision of loveliness that denied God and man the pleasure of my company for the evening. Am I a dandy? Only in the sense that itd be just dandy to meet me.
I imagine meeting myself for a while but I am so charming that I instantly hate myself for being so wonderful and I have to leave. I glance around my squalid flat and notice that some fool has thrown all of my bedclothes on the floor. I straighten up my bed a bit and leave for a slice of the nightlife.
Do I strut? Its a question I have asked myself time and again to no satisfactory answer. Could anyone blame me for it? That I can answer in one word, absolutely not. Who could deny that I have every right to strut, every right to walk on my hands if I so choose? (Such lovely hands they are.) Such a lovely evening, it certainly is nice for me to be out in it. After all, who else could make this evening such a wonder for everyone else? I really set off an evening. Can I say that without blushing? I check in a shop window and see that I can. Would a cane be too much? Who can tell in this world of relativistic values and the slothful impulses that drive our current economy? What with one thing and another I must say that a cane, while I might set it off well, really doesnt seem to be working for me, at least mentally. My deepest and most sincere apologies go out to the cane manufacturers of the world. Some things cannot be.
As I strolled jaunty-jolly down the street, as per my doctors orders, I noticed that the evening had come into full bloom. Only the frequent placement of streetlights scythed the nights dark cloak and revealed the inhabitants of the inky night. Such lovely inhabitants all dressed for a night on the town; all of them recognizing, with infinite gratitude, the honor of being on the same planet as I.
A dazzling smile bedecked my lips and seemed to say, Ah, this is the stuff! Verve and aplomb, those were the very words that seemed to stream from my jaunty step and envelop the world around. All was right with the world; God was in His heaven and so on.
In my perambulations I ran across what might be called a seedy dive and I stopped in to examine its dank and despairing interior. On crossing the threshold however I was accosted (if that is the word I want) by a group of large men, or they may have been gorillas. They lifted me right off my feet and were about to heave me out of the doors when a liltingly feminine voice bade them to desist. As a single organism they turned me round and what was mine to behold, but a female lovely. Not, let us be honest here, as lovely as I am. I cant check to see if I am blushing now, but wouldnt it be embarrassing if I were? What a story to tell all the kids at the club. She was lovely though, nonetheless.
She was gracefully attired in a shockingly red evening gown that was cut rather lower than the seasonal cool would have allowed on anyone whose body left any slightest thing to be desired, hers didnt. Her dark brown hair rolled in waves over her back and was styled to look like the three grandest of the Seven Wonders of the World; it was a chestnut ocean of follicular glory. Her eyes were hazel with gray flecks, but as wide and as deep as the sea. What worlds revolve around that nose? as the poet once said. I do believe that at mere first glance I was very nearly smitten. She was not I, but she did have an awful lot going for her. The only drawback to the situation was that she seemed more than somewhat interested in what I was doing in her place and less with how wonderful I was. Her trained gorillas seemed desirous of rumpling my shirt; all told it wasnt a pleasant few moments. I convinced her that I meant no harm and she had the pug-uglies search me. They came up empty-handed, for which I was glad, because if they were some sort of undercover narcotics group then I would have been rather badly off. Fortunately they passed right over my precious pill of pleasure. I have never been told to Wipe that smile off your face! so many times in one evening in my life. Id like to state that up front.
...To Be Continued...