/Big Night Out In Rockingham
/Album Mix
We sit in my lounge room.
9PM. Friday night. Bored as fuck.
There’s nothing going on.
“Where we gonna go?”
“Out.”
We stand up, head to the cars.
The merits of each club are
debated.
This one’s sleazy
This one’s rap
This one’s tacky
And that’s just crap
I think seriously on the possibility of dancing at
2AM to bootylicious, undulating, dry rooting R&B...
I stop thinking.
The general consensus is that “tacky” is the
best of our four options.
Plus we know the promotions guy there, so we might
be able to scab ourselves some free drinks.
We crank up the car stereo and wank our way there.
On arrival at the club we are greeted by a smiling
bouncer who remembers us.
Oh shit.
We’re regulars.
I’ve never been so embarrassed.
I
look around.
While
I’m here, I may as well get me some sex...
Having
spent the entire night in the pursuit of sexual gratification, it is
somewhat disappointing to find my only offer is from a woman named Angie,
who is aged at a youthful 42.
“Fuck
that for a joke.”
I
wish I wouldn’t take myself so literally.
Nobody
ever laughs anyway.
Half
way home I call Angie a taxi on my mobile and dump her at the shopping
centre.
The
very thought of what could have occurred sends chills up my spine.
As I
drive away, she screams horrible insults at me and I think of immature
comebacks I’ll never use.
I
get home and wander what happened to my friends.
Probably
fucking.
Fuckwits.
I
open the door and switch on the light.
It
doesn’t come on, and the others behave in pretty much the same way.
It’s
almost as if a thief has come into the house and taken only the light
bulbs.
My
body, without consulting me, decides that seeing as though I’m tired,
I
may
as
well
sleep
on
the
floor.
I
arrive there with a THUD.
I
wake up at dawn with the sun shining through the flyscreen and right into
my eyes.
There’s
a puddle of saliva sticking my face to the floorboards.
I stand up and head for bed.
|
