9:37am Sunday February 15

I wake up with my tongue stuck to the pillow. Need moisture. The dog is licking my palm. aaawwwwww! What a great dog.

10:14am Sunday February 15

The dog is still licking my palm. Strange, because I trained him not to be affectionate. My eyes scan my palm. Blood!! My brain processes this information, and then, feels pain.

1:17pm Saturday February 14

After the dog and I do a lap in Golden Hill park, the dog stops in front of Luigi’s. Stubborn dog, but he has a good idea. I order two cheese and a stone ipa. We are wolves blares on a boom box. A cheerful couple enters, and I pull down my baseball cap over my eyes. My name is shouted, and I jerk. It is not my pizza, but Laura Grey. A crazy chick from college. Questions slap me in the face. I jig and jag, but I am doing dinner tonight. I damn my slow my brain, then I feed the dog pizza crust. He is happy and I am frustrated.

7:13pm Saturday February 14

I am walking to Laura’s, who lives on 22nd and Broadway. It is one of those nights where the fog is soooo thick you only can see 2 feet in front of you. As I cross 25th, a beamer hits me. It was driving so slow that it was a tap. I cry wolf, and my buddy Jack springs from the driver’s side.

“You [email protected] slow hippie..watch where you are goin!” Jack screams.

“You [email protected]” I grin.

“Where are you going? I will give you a ride”

I hop in his stiff leather passenger seat. Jack gently caresses my head while he places a bong on my lap.

“Really?...... A bong in the car? Is that necessary?

“Do you want it or not?”

As I suck it down hard, Jack punches me in the shoulder and blurts, “ Easy on the opium”

“Thanks for the heads up, Jerky”

I ooze out of the car into Laura’s Crate and Barrel showroom. I meet Laura's friends and husband. They are as exciting as the furniture. I ask for a beer, but I am told there is no alcohol. My heart skips a beat. While we eat dry chicken, Laura plays Alanis Morrisette. I contemplate Hell. During our after dinner coffee, Laura declares to her giddy caffeinated friends that we are going to play truth or dare. I let out a moan, which is noticed. I breathe that if we are going to play a kid's game let's play hide and go seek. I count.....1....2...I slip one shoe on....3.. the second shoe....4....out the door....

As I am scurrying down Broadway, my ears hear a familiar voice. I eye Jack on a balcony .

“That guy is full of [email protected]” I scream.

Abruptly, I am shoulder to shoulder with Jack, beers, women, and smoke. It is Katrin's apartment. Jack slaps my back hard and insists he must drive the women 2 blocks to his apt. I squeeze next to Katrin and a random in the back seat. Katrin pukes on herself, and everyone nods silently in compassion. The women pass out, and Jack and I continue with tequila and mountain dew in his kitchen. Nobody is thrilled about the drink combo. I break a glass, and Jack punches me in the face. Time stops.

“Did you just hit me in the face?”

Jack apologizes and he affectionally puts his hand on my shoulder.

Jack forces me to the my knees.

Jack orders me to clean the floor.

I grab a piece of glass in my fist.

I leap to my feet and punch Jack in one drunken motion.

Jack yelps.

We bleed.

I flee....

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PistolPete Feb. 17, 2010 @ 12:12 a.m.

Funny. My parole officer's name was Laura Grey...


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