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You wake up.

Somehow a party on the edge of nowhere ended in you lying on a futon-couch-desk construct with Madonna, a very nondescript and ordinary Madonna without gothic robes or a cone-shaped bra, and you're pretty sure she wants you. Everyone else leaves, raving and unhappy and no longer needed. But you're obsessed with finding an oddly shaped spoon that you were given, and you have an inkling that it may have slipped under the couch. This is the spoon. Madonna can wait. Then everything shifts and you're in a public restroom that's both empty and full at the same time. There is interrupted stall-fucking and flumes of water and high-fives and a missing backpack that you abandon everything to search for. In your frantic haze you run past a short-order cook running business out of a bathroom stall and a bizarre procession from the past and present. There's a mythology about these two guys who patrol the bathroom and indescriminately cut off ears. They find you before you find the backpack, appearing out of nowhere. You are immobilized after a brief struggle but your ear is only slightly cut, not severed. There isn't very much blood and you feel strangely thankful for these random punks and their razor. The cut leads to reconciliation and the unidentified blond girl showers you with insights and somehow you know that your backpack is at her house.

You wake up. Your ear is fine and your backpack is crammed under the bed in its usual spot. The spoon is still missing but it's been gone for a while, and you know that there are plenty more spoons out in the kitchen. But you still wonder.

Posted by Chris at 01:33 PM >> Commentations (0)