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North America » Canada » Quebec » Montréal » Saint Laurent
May 18th 2009
Saved: July 12th 2020
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After my brief foray into soldier play, I managed to launch a short offensive before her friend rang her doorbell. I was satisfied. I had a standup double in a random white girl’s room and a sliding double at the club with Christal. 2 for 2 with 2 doubles.

I picked up my shirt and retied it around my head to head out.

“Wait, can I get your name or something?”

I turned back at the doorway, grabbed a pen and scrawled my name and phone number on the wall.

I clicked the pen and tossed it onto her desk.

“Call me.”




I woke up the next morning with a splitting headache wondering why the fuck I was clutching a stick in my bed.

Oh right. I smirked. I stood up and nearly screamed in agony as my ankle gave out.

Ouch. Ouch.




Fast forward two weeks.

End of finals. Groggy as fuck from little to no sleep for two weeks, I did the right thing and pounded whiskey with Teddy and some random Korean dude at 5pm. I passed out.

Woke up thirty minutes later to a call.

“Let’s get drunk! We’re going clubbing!”

I groaned.

Fuck.




I got even more hammered at Ms. Cow’s place. The game: guess a number, roll 5 dice, if you guessed wrong, drink. You won’t guess the right number.

The drinks: straight Grey Goose.

Fuck.




I’m at Tokyo, a club on St. Laurent. It’s hot, it’s steamy and I’m dehydrated as fuck. I’m woozy and I stumble to a patio.

It’s frigid outside. Nice.

I’m joined by Sake Bomb and Ms. Lucky.

Sake Bomb stares at me then glances meaningfully at Ms. Lucky and nods. Then she leaves.

Huh—

Ms. Lucky’s tongue is down my throat.

Miss Lucky is the hottest girl I know.

Fuck yea!




Miss Lucky is gone. I am inside the club again.

“The Matchmaker isn’t drunk enough!”

We do Tequila. I stumble into a couch.

I try to straighten out the club in my vision.

Fuck.




“The Matchmaker isn’t drunk enough!”

We do Vodka.

I’m grinding a hot girl.

I’m told the girl is a speaker.

Fuck.




Matchmaker, the Princess, me, Christal Champagne, Sake Bomb.

On a couch. The VIP section.

I’m thirsty. A glass of ice materializes in front of me. I shove a few into my mouth.

Someone is shaking my arm. I turn left.

It’s Christal Champagne. “I’m thirsty too, I want some ice!”

I cup her face, kiss her and push a few cubes into her mouth. With my tongue.

She rolls some back.

We’re making out.

Fuck.




Our tongues are waltzing around.

I glance left. Sake Bomb has vanished.

I glance right. The Princess and the Matchmaker are tongue fucking each other’s mouths.

The Matchmaker tries to steal second, but the Princess throws him out with slap.

Fuck.




Champagne is straddling me. We’re still on first.

I grab second. She brushes it away.

I move from her mouth to her jaw then visit the three erogenous zones on the left side of her face. With my tongue.

She bites my shoulder. Hard.

And shakes. And bites my shoulder again.

It feels damp on my lap. Huh? Did someone spill a drink?

She stares at me, an embarrassed grin on her face.

Oh…that’s what happened.

Fuck.




I travel to the three on the right side.

She pants. She moans.

She screams and bites my right shoulder.

She’s came on my jeans again.

Fuck.




Eyes closed, panting. She’s collapsed into a single above me.

“Thanks. Wow.”

She smiles as I take second.

Fuck yea.




It’s cold as fuck.

I force open an eye. I look left. Grass. I look right. Grass.

I push up. University campus. 5am.

I collapse back.

Fuck.




Tap. Tap. Tap.

I open an eye.

“You ok there?” Campus security, prodding me with a walkie talkie.

“Yea.” I close my eyes again.

“You can’t sleep here.”

I trudge home. I glance at my calendar. Job Interview in 45 minutes.

Fuck.




A week later: I get the job.

I have smoked enough dro to slow down Usain Bolt.

I get a call.

“Wanna meet again?” It’s my solider girl, wallowing away across the street.

I want to lecture her on the meaning of life from an existential angle. I want to eat snacks. I want to watch a pointless Youtube video.

But she just tells me to come.

Nice.




I’m on second base and in outer space. At the same time. Whoa.

Nice.




I am getting ready to head to third. The door slams open.

It is her friend. He stares at us.

“What the fuck are you doing with my girl?”

Apparently more than just a friend.

Nice.




I’m going to get my ass kicked. I spin. I grab a ceramic lamp. And pull up my pants.

“Sorry, I didn’t know.”

He wants to kill me.

But I’m holding a lamp.




I edge out the door, brandishing the lamp.

I sprint out and head to my apartment. But no, he might be watching. I need to go somewhere safe.

Teddy’s.

But I’m holding a lamp.




I text Teddy. I need to appear normal. I can’t spook him.

“Yo, wat r u up to tonite?”

My phone buzzes. “Watchin baseball with some peeps. Come over!”

A perfect escape. And baseball!

But I’m holding a lamp.




Shit. Shit. Shit.

Focus. First get the fuck out of Dodge City!

A bus on Parc! I sprint and get on.

Safe. For now. He might still be watching, though.

I look out all the windows. I don’t see him.

But I’m still holding a lamp.




Be alert. An old woman is eyeing me. Is she a spy?

I back away from her…

Everyone is staring at me. They are all spies!

I frantically pull the cord and jump out. I want to sprint away.

But I’m still holding a lamp.




Plateau Pawn Shop.

I hand the lamp over. The old man examines it carefully. Hands me a ticket and $2.50.

I am rich!




I need to spend this! Where?

I go to the Dep. An orange vitamin water.

Electrolytes! Another call.

D-German: “Casino?”

Obviously! I am rich! I look at my wallet. 25 cents. ATM Machine.

My last $40.

I am rich. With Vitamin Water.




Trini Boy, D-German and me get wasted in my apartment. Whiskey. Vodka. And Vitamin Water.

We have $120 altogether. We search for change for Metro tickets.

We are rich. With Vitamin Water.




The dealer is showing a 6. We have 12. We hit. 17. I take a sip of Vitamin Water. We hit. 20.

We are amazing. Dealer gets 21.

We’re down to $75.

At least we have Vitamin Water.




Trini Boy goes on a hot streak. We are $30 up.

We should leave. We are up.

We leave. We go back in. Roulette.

$25 on black. I take a sip of Vitamin Water. The ball hits black.

$50 up.

50 Cent sponsors Vitamin Water. Coincidence? I think not.




We buy poutine to celebrate. Trini Boy drops E.

I refuse. C-Benz calls me. “Teddy and me are getting mad drunk! Head over!”

I bid Trini Boy adieu as he dances in La Belle Province with two ketchup bottles.

He is fucked.




We are making shit mixes in Teddy’s house. Vodka, Tanqueray, Whiskey, Bourbon. And Vitamin Water. We need to finish his alcohol before he moves.

We are also watching Cocktail. Tom Cruise is fucking hot 80’s chicks, reciting poems and sipping Louis XIII. It’s worth $2,000 and comes in a Baccarat crystal bottle.

But does it have electrolytes?




I am eating a hamburger.

I am playing beer pong.

I am stumbling around with Teddy.

I have lost my Vitamin Water. I am fucked.

I open an eye. It is 6am. I am sleeping on a street corner. I have a hangover. My body is sore. I check my wallet. I have $50 profit from the casino.

I buy a case of Vitamin Water.


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