Bright Lights, Big Party

            You wake up to the sound of children screaming and dogs barking. You look at your watch. 1:35 p.m. What had happened from Friday afternoon to Saturday morning, you could not remember. You get up, receiving a pounding in your head and falling back on to the couch. Why did it have to be dogs, of all pets? You remember that you are allergic to dogs and try to move away from the couch, realizing that there is fur all over your torn jeans. Your friend’s mom (or you think it is your friend’s mom; you cannot remember anything right now) comes into the room and asks why you had not gone home after the party. You apologize and start to leave.

            As you are leaving, you try to remember what party she was talking about. Then you remember that you were supposed to be home two and a half hours ago to help your dad clean the garage. You try to sneak into the house but it does not work. It is like he has eyes all around the house. Hawk eyes, maybe. Your dad starts yelling at you like there is no tomorrow. Maybe there won’t be a tomorrow. You have work tomorrow at the zoo. You remember that it’s your turn to help out with the children’s petting zoo. You hate children and you can only get through if you have the one and only thing you love, your Bolivian Marching Powder. You decide that the only way you're going to get through tomorrow is if you have a lot of it tonight.

            While your dad is still yelling at you, you slip away and walk down the street to the local drugstore. You know the guy and the guy knows you and what you want. He always keeps a special stash of the powder in the back and knows you can’t live without it because it always makes you feel less nervous. You’re still trying to remember how you ended up at your friend’s house when your friend walks in and asks if you did that favor. You really try to think about what he said but all you need right now is the Bolivian Marching Powder. Why the hell was I at his house last night and what was this “party all about”? You tell your friend that he will finish the favor as soon as he gets home, but you know that you won’t.

            You get home and all that is on your mind is the cocaine and the party from last night. You decide that it’s better to forget about it. Maybe it never actually happened and you were dreaming about it. You hate dreams like this.