30 Days Out and It Hits Me

I've noticed something odd quite recently. Since moving from the 55+ community (the Pelican Place) the funnies have become an infrequent visitor in my life. My days are now calm, complacent and predictable. There is no more 'grandma gossip' and old guy farts. I am no longer awaiting the drop of the hat like a guy with terets on the green mile. My edge has turned to fluffy cotton. I breathe easy, sleep well, meet women, eat heartily, drink too much, sit on my couch and smile a massive, cartoonish smile. If I weren't enjoying my days so much I'd force myself into another uncomfortable situation just to stimulate the rods and cones.

But I do have a story. One story from my first day in the new apartment.

After my first night in the apartment I awoke with piss and vinegar pulsing through my veins. I had only a bed in the entire apartment yet it was one of the most comfortable, placid awakenings (that word reminds me of Crossing Over which is a ridiculous hoax of a TV show) of a life. There was only carpet. There seemed to be miles and miles of of plush tan carpet in which to sink. 13 seconds later I hopped to my feet disappointed because I had no heroin. If Trainspotting taught me one thing it's that carpet is a fantastic lark while jacked up on smack.

As a result I was forced to leave the apartment in order to locate a morsel of food and a coffee. Coffee is a form of heroin or crack, I am sure. Some claim it can no be based on it's negligible effect on the user's lifestyle. If you smelled my buddy Turtle's kitten breath after a grande of morning smackum jackum you might change your mind.

With no distractions (13 seconds of carpet riding behind me) I left for my new Whole Foods (overpriced organic shit from Machu Pichu). Opening the door can be a story unto itself. On this day (have you ever seen Cheaters? Listen to his delivery when he shows the video footage in the last scene. Priceless!), the world theatre had begun upon the opening of my door. At about 24 degrees beuond closed, I heard a sentence projected loudly and clearly but audibly behind a closed door. A sound can sometimes open a portal in time through which you can relive a few seconds of the past. This time it was the college dorm sophomore year. This is what I heard on the first day in my new apartment:

Male Voice (loudly, almost angry): Yeah, I fucked her!
PAUSE
Male Voice: Yeah I like it!
PAUSE
Male Voice: Yeah I came in her!
PAUSE
Inaudible Woman's Voice: ???? Sobbing ???
Male Voice: But I love YOU!!!

Unfortunately I was unable to identify the location of the conversation down to a specific door but I've narrowed the search down to 3 doors. And unfortunately I haven't been able to make a clear ID of the actors. But I do have a plan of action. Later this week I'll be donning my old girl scout outfit to sell some cookies and ask a few probing (potenitally anal) questions. Who can say no to a 33 year old guy dressed in a girl scout outfit with carp on his finger?

jb