I collapse on to the couch like a dying soldier.  John laughs and opens a fresh pack of smokes.  I roll on top of my stomach to check the machine. 

 

BEEP

 

Hey, Justin.  It’s Charles.  This punk at the Donkey’s Ass – he fucking BROKE my NOSE, Justin!  Like, what the FUCK??  I mean, can you believe it?  Can you believe it, Justin?  Just ruined my leather jacket, man!  There’s blood everywhere.  Oh!  Oh oh oh and hey – then Fff DUMPS me for him.  This SKINHEAD!  She kicks me in the BALLS, they jump in his Fiat – a fucking FIAT, Justin!  I mean, what’s he got that I don’t?  I got I got a motherfucking FORD ESCORT … Huh?  I got a fucking SNAKE on my arm.  I got a … aww shit.  Aww, shit on me, shit on ME!  My ear’s infected.  I’ll call you back.

 

BEEEEEP 

 

John’s sitting on the floor, cross-legged, blowing smoke rings at the ceiling.  He looks like Siddartha.  With a big-ass fro.  He ashes his cigarette into a Chinese food carton and then tells me this story:

 

So there I am.  Or there I was.  I’m like, hiking in the Hills, okay?  Was a Sunday afternoon and then BOOM.  Right in front of me’s this FLYING SAUCER.  Made me drop my granola bar to the GROUND.  And there were these aliens.  Checking me out.  No introductions, hey, how ya doin’, take me to your leader – none of that shit.  Next thing ya know, I’m on this metal table BUTT NAKED with these guys like, injecting translucent fluids through my veins through these gigantic needles and sticking pointed sharp things up my asshole.  I must’ve been up there for like fucking two hours but it felt like DAYS.  And these aliens?  Hilarious.  Just like TV with the big green heads and black squinted cat eyes and shit.  Real corny.  Suddenly, I’m back in the Hills and they’ve split.  Went home, mission accomplished – I was flabbergasted, like – amazing … I tell ya. I haven’t been the same since.

 

John takes a satisfied drag.

 

You were hiking?

 

Yah.

 

Why?

 

Cuz I wanted to see the sign.

 

The sign?

 

Hollywood sign.

 

WHY?

 

Because I wanted to see how big it was.

 

And?

 

Not that big.

 

What time is it and please don’t tell me it’s eight.

 

John checks his cell phone and tells me it’s eight ten.  I groan and slam my head against the couch arm.

 

FUCK!  I gotta go to work!

 

Can I crash here?

 

I don’t know.  CAN you?

 

Haha.  That’s so old.

 

I check my wallet for bus change.  I’m a buck short for coffee.

 

Hey.  Loan me a dollar.

 

Why?

 

C’mon.  Loan me a dollar.

 

You’re not gonna spend it on coffee, are you?

 

Just lend me a dollar.

 

Is it the caffeine?  Why do you drink that shit?

 

Gimme the fucking dollar, John.

 

Not until you tell me what you’re gonna spend it on.

 

I’ll tell you after you give me the dollar.

 

What?

 

Gimme the dollar and I’ll tell you.

 

John hands me a dollar.

 

Coffee.  I’m going to spend it on coffee.

 

What?

 

I’ll pay you back.

 

Gimme back my dollar, ya bastard.

 

Lock the door before you leave.  And stay out of my fridge.

 

Yo mama.

 

I’ll call you later.

 

Have fun at work.

 

John lights up another smoke.  I chase after my bus.  I would have caught it too if the line at Starbucks weren’t so fucking long.  I spent all day searching for a sunrise in a pile of dicks and Heinekin bottles.

 

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