The day hadn't turned out as good as expected. That's not to say it wasn't a great day - it was, filled with laughter, smiles, and jokes - but it was almost too good. Our sense of humour had declined into such a simplistic state of idiocy that we were incapable of holding a normal conversation with eachother. To add to the fact, we were all pumped full of whiskey, so the thought of an interaction between us, without either
a. making a fucked up face
b. making a fucked up noise, or
c. saying something fucked up and inarticulate,
was incomprehensible.
We'd developed quite the bond together, having realized that the three of us were more fucked than anyone we'd ever met. We delved so deep into the farthest and most truly fucked regions of our brains, uncovering sections of insanity that even we'd been unaware of. Our words were truly fucked, (forgive the overuse of the word fucked, but there are few other words to describe this degree of delusional bullshit), our conversations would drift into sadistic, perverted monstrosities. The ideas we shared would have made Quentin Tarantino quiver in his boots.
The balance was maintained by Karla, our voice of reason. When our minds lapsed so far into perversion that we couldn't handle ourselves, we'd call on her to help us remember that we could talk about something that made at least a little bit of sense.
Anyway, I decided I needed to take a break from my husbands. Take some time to reevaluate my mind, to remember the fraction of intelligence I'd once held dear. Hopefully some time apart would do them good, too.
Once we'd finished the whiskey, Karla's boyfriend was kind enough to drive us to the highway. I decided to let my husbands and Aids head out by themselves. I stayed by the bridge we'd been dropped off at and let myself drift into an uneasy slumber.
It had been a while since I'd been on my own... tomorrow, it would be just me and the Road.
Great stuff amigo, keep writing.
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