143 lines
8.4 KiB
Plaintext
143 lines
8.4 KiB
Plaintext
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= F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. =
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BUZZ
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----
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I had called Julie to go out since I figured she would be going
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nuts in her apartment by herself since Steve, her boyfriend and my
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co-worker and friend, had to go out of state for a family thing. We
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didn't really see each other unless we were both with Steve, but I
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wanted to be nice to her try to show her a little good will. Besides,
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she had been bugging me to take her to "one of those weird coffee shops"
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for weeks. I was a little concerned that she might feel slightly out of
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place if I took her to any of my usual hang outs, but she seemed undaunted
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when I explained to her that she would be hard pressed to find anyone here
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who didn't have a nose, nipple or tongue ring. I expected her to be
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revolted, but she was really dying to see some of the counter- culture.
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Like some kind of researcher, she wanted to see what "they" were like,
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first hand and maybe pull out a few sketches for her Monday night drawing
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class.
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We walked in the door and a boulder of cigarette and clove smoke
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rolled out the door just before it closed. Julie took a quick surveillance
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of the dimly lit cafe before deciding that we were to sit in the corner
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where she could get a good look around. I set up my little work area to
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write for my magazine and she puled out her drawing notebook, a few odd
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looking pencils and a mangled eraser. She lit one of her narrow, pristine
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cigarettes and held it delicately between her manicured fingers. We cracked
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small grins at each other in silence for a few seconds, not knowing quite
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what to make of the situation. I almost felt like I was trying to hang out
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with my mother. I pulled my manic hair up into a pony tail, peeled of my
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leather jacket and began writing without another moment wasted. Realizing
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that I wasn't going to chit chat, she consulted the menu and scanned it up
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and down and back again.
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After about eight minutes, the tattooed, pierced, violet haired
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waiter noticed our presence came by and asked us for our orders.
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"I'll have a double iced mocha" I said.
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"I'll try this Mind Melter thing," Julie said pointing to it on the
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menu. The waiter paused and looked at her doubtfully, as was I.
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"It's pretty strong," the waiter warned, "The boss was considering
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taking it off the menu soon due to all the legal threats."
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"You know Julie" I said, "you're not a real big coffee drinker.
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That might not be such a good idea."
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An expression of firm determination planted itself firmly on her
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face as she said, "No, I want to try it."
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"Okay," the waiter said shaking his head. He scribbled our orders
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down and walked back to the bar.
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I was on my second page when he returned with our two drinks. Mine
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was in an oversized mug and Julie's was in a large glass. The Mind Melter
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was an oily black and had the consistency of slightly thinned chocolate
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syrup. She picked up her glass and examined it for a minute like it was
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some kind of rare animal. She slowly brought it to her lips and cautiously
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sipped as though she believed it might actually sear her face off. She
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swallowed the first gulp and her whole body relaxed.
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"This is really good," she smiled. "I don't know what all the fuss
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is about."
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I nodded and continued writing. Within a matter of minutes, the
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Mind Melter was gone. Julie excused herself to the bar and returned
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already sucking down another one.
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"What the hell are you doing?" I snapped. "That's enough caffeine
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to kill a small horse."
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"Oh, stop it," she said joking defiantly. "I think I can handle it.
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To be honest, I don't think there's any caffeine in this thing."
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I returned to my pad of paper and tried to ignore her. Her second
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drink vanished almost as quickly as the first. As the last drop of sludge
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went into her mouth, she was up for another one. This one was gone before
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she even got back to the table. I noticed the waiter nearby and he was
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looking at us with something unmistakably like pity. Julie flashed me an
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innocent grin and sat back down to resume drawing. That's when it started.
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It was really subtle at first. Julie was only trembling a little.
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She toyed with her small diamondstud earrings and clacked her nails on the
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table. Every minute or so she would lay her pencil down and steady herself
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with a deep breath and/ or a cigarette. The quivers were soon replaced by
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full blown tremors. I could see her fidgeting around a lot as if she were
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covered in fleas. She was trying to hide it and continued to draw. I raised
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my eyes and watched her as she scrawled manically on page after page, each
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"drawing" nothing more that a mass of chaotic marks. She began flailing so
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wildly that the table was rocking, my mug was clacking around in its dish
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and the remains of my drink were spilling all over the table.
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"Are you all right?" I asked. She jerked back into her chair and
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started laughing. With every breath she got louder and higher in pitch.
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By now more than half the cafe was staring at us. Julie just looked around
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the room and kept right on laughing. With a sudden jerk, she shot out her
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arm and grabbed a handful of the sweetener packets out of the porcelain
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bowl on the table and proceeded to throw the little pink, white and blue
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wads at the other customers. When she emptied our bowl, she invaded the
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table next to us and rapidly fired off all of theirs as well.
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When both bowls of ammunition were empty, she jumps onto our table
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and began a new assault with half and half creamers. Everyone was shouting
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and blocking, but she kept right on going. Then, without provocation, her
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attention was diverted to the kitchen. She leaped from the table like a cat
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and scrambled through the doorway. Now, I didn't actually see her strip,
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but one by one her various articles of clothing came flying back into the
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cafe. Someone in back was yelling, "Leave those alone and get outta here."
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Then her voice shouting, "Your mailman has gravy in his shoes!"
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Julie came bursting back into the cafe, stark naked save her socks
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and a rubber glove she'd stretched over her head. She sprinted to the
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front doors dodging the scattered tables and plowed her way outside.
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Before the doors shut, we saw her take off down the street screaming
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"I'm a squid! I'm a squid!"
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Two guys in the corner applauded, and some girl burst out laughing
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but everyone else was staring at me as if I could even begin to explain
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what had just happened. The waiter had come back to the table without me
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noticing. He stood beside me, sporting the same bewildered expression I
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must have had. He chuckled a little, then turned to me and said, "I think
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we should take it off the menu now."
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-Wednesday
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= Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions =
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= FTP.WINTERNET.COM/users/craigb/fuck =
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= (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. =
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