My hands. They ripple, boil, and burst. Running them under the water, they bubble and splash and come apart and come back together. I laugh; scream; giggle; I'm not opening the door.
But I know they're out there, waiting for me, waiting to ask me why I took so long in the crapper, why I'm in here laughing to myself, why I took the last of the shrooms that were sitting in a baggie on the kitchen shelf next to the bottle of Patron. The answer: low impulse control. I couldn't stop myself. Not from that; not from chasing the bluish fungus with a shot of amber tequila and then half a doobie I got from Catherine, or maybe Jose. Goddamn it, they laced the shit with cocaine again and now I'm standing here with my fly open watching my hands dissolve in the sink.
They told me not to do it. I didn't listen. Now I keep washing and washing and I can't get it off, can't get it out of my pores. They'll all know. They'll all know. Yes, it was me. I stole the mushrooms, I left the tequila open on the counter, I ruined the office Christmas party, I smell like a liquor store that was recently turned into a Bath & Body Works.
And yeah...it was all worth it. Even getting fired and becoming an out-of-work marketing manager...'s assistant. Just for the look on their faces when they knew it was me.
***
I don't know what the hell that was all about, but it's part of the fun of Flickr Fiction Friday and inspired by this photo. Chris, Elimare, Teaandcakes, Littlegoat and The Gurrier are also raging party animals at this celebration. Click on the links to read their versions.
6 comments:
Heh, 'Fear and Lathering,' excellent title. I like your opening too. Hallucinogenic bathrooms are not good...so I'm told.
I really liked the opening part. Great idea from the picture too.
Thanks!! I didn't have much time to work on this and ended up writing it while at work, frustrated by idiots. (Perhaps that's a little too apparent...)
I look forward to having more time this week to work on the next one.
Very nice indeed. Love the title.
Hey, I really like this.
I'm actually thinking I should put together a writing blog of my own and do this, it's like those crazy LaValle writing exercises that started with looking at a picture and writing a letter to yourself... only way less creepy.
You totally should! Hey, posting to a blog once a week is plenty. It's definitely less creepy than Victor's writing exercises, though some of that was tainted by the fact that I'd read his work and thought it was...strange. The rest of it was because of the bizarre group dynamic in that class.
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