Hitting the Club

I saw a man with mouse ears on his head exclaiming that he was a prophet while I was entering the club. He singled me out of the crowd, and said to me:

“Come boy. Come with me, and I will show you what you need. What you’re lacking, and what you’ll see.”

Not objecting, I shrugged my shoulders and followed the bizarre man. He swayed back and forth while he walked, tilting his head from side to side in sync with his feet bouncing up and down with his stride. I knew this man was most likely a drug addict, but I followed him anyways. I continued following him, creating a pathway through the dance floor, until we reached the toilettes. The bathroom was filthy, and disease ridden, and I thought I was going to throw up. He pushed me into a stall, looked around simpering, and then he began, like a ringmaster, or murderer, creeping his hand into his coat:

“Here, here my BOY. Here, this, this here is the answer to all your problems. An enigmatic solution to an ambiguous continuous nightmare of magnificent proportions.”

Not knowing what the hell he just said, I shrugged my shoulders, and said:

“Okie dokie.”

He pulled out a Ziploc bag with a couple of what appeared to me to be prescription pills. He stuck his hand inside the bag, grabbed one and presented it to me. I immediately popped it in my mouth.

“Don’t eat that.” He said, as soon as I had eaten it.

It tasted unusual, maybe not like a pill traditionally would, tasteless. It tasted sweet in my mouth after I swallowed, and then it tasted really sour. My tongue began to burn, and I started gagging.

“Idiot! Told you not to eat it. Against the rules, man!”

I managed to stick my fingers down my throat, with a lot of unease, and throw up anything I could in the toilet. Gaining whatever composure I could, I said:

“O.K. What are the rules then? [PAUSE] MAN.”

“You don’t eat it. That’s the rules. You NEVER eat it. You pull it open. Open Sesame!” He pulled the pill open.” “Then you snort insides out!”

“OH.” I said.

“Now. Here you go, you. Don’t go bamboozling to boo knows who! Rules say you only get one more, dirty whore! SO. TRY NOT TO FUCK IT UP THIS TIME!”

“Okay Mickey Mouse.” I said. As soon as I said this, I regretted it.

I pulled the capsule apart, and poured it out on top of the toilet, then snorted it. I began feeling sick immediately. I thought of the color green, then orange, then purple. My whole body hurt, then was numb, then hurt again. My head twitched uncontrollably, and I lost my hearing. NO sound. All gone. After about a minute of writhing in pain on the bathroom floor, and Mickey Mouse just nodding his head smirking at me, the sound flooded back in my ears like a monsoon. Mickey Mouse kept smiling at me and continued nodding, beginning to drool. My neck was jolting uncontrollably and my hands were convulsing. He started laughing at me, or maybe with me, because I was laughing now. His eyes began to appear more and more sinister, becoming darker and darker red with each passing second. He lifted his right hand, which was also convulsing, and reached for my belt buckle. I was still on the ground on this point, and almost let him finish undoing it, until I realized his intent. I leapt up from the floor, and started crying. I grabbed the back of his head, and smashed it into the top of the toilet. Still crying, I snatched the bag of pills and his mouse ears, and ran screaming out of the bathroom.