|
I was 17, and I was at party at an ex-boyfriend's house.
We were playing a drinking game where you have to take a shot of vodka everytime you call someone by name. It sounds lame, but especially after the first couple shots...it very effectively fucks you up.
So, apparently, in the midst of all this someone decides that it would be a grand idea to go see The Rocky Horror Picture show at the dollar theater midnight showing. Why the fuck not, right?
I remember only brief glimpses of the evening after walking the 4 blocks to the theater. I remember telling this one guy, that I just met that night, that I loved him like a brother and I will kill anyone that ever fucks with him. I remember being escorted up to the stage during the show and being handed a twinkie. I remember various disturbing images of people singing. I remember being escorted out the theatre. I remember being sprawled on the bathroom floor of the dollar theatre.
So, I wake up the next day alone in a bed that’s not mine, in a house that I don’t recognize, in clothes that aren’t mine, and with a note taped to my forehead that read “Chantel, Went to get donuts”.
I stumbled to the bathroom and looked in the mirror and there was a big red “V” written on my cheek in lipstick.
|