strange days have found us.

The incessant sound of my alarm clock this morning was enough to wake the dead. I truly felt that the only justice that I could give to the piercing screams of this machine was to smash it with a hammer. As I sat at the edge of my bed glancing at the pieces of my alarm clock strewn all over my floor, I realized that this was the first time I’d been sober in months. I got up to take a shower and wash away my sins from the night before. I let the water run so hot that it made my skin pink and I took a fresh razor to my skull. When I went to my room to get dressed, I cut my toe on a piece of a circuit board from my alarm clock. There are bloody footprints all over my apartment, and I’m sure my brother will be wondering about that later.

I stepped out of my apartment into the daylight and the sun was a ridiculous yellow. Like a neon lemon smoking crack cocaine. I put on my blue blocker shades and everything suddenly turned to toxic green. I hopped into a red convertible (which looked purple because of my sunglasses) that wasn’t mine and started off on my day. After causing some minor property damage and coming dangerously close to vehicular manslaughter, I quickly decided that grand theft auto was not for me. I wasn’t quite sure what to do with the car, so I left it running at a red light in the middle of route 46.

I caught a ride from a strange Mexican fellow named Aquilino. He said his name meant “like an eagle”. He had long, greasy hair and a blotchy beard. All in all, he seemed like a genuine soul, but he appeared to be a little nervous. Maybe it was my hunting knife, or maybe it was the large red stain on my pants, which I’m pretty sure was just ketchup. I tried to explain that the knife was just for protection, but he looked at me as if I was speaking another language. Beads of sweat were building on his nose and forehead, and I could tell that I was going to have to take some swift action. I reached into my wallet and found a business card that I had gotten a few weeks ago from some asshole who was trying to offer me a job. I gave it to Aquilino and told him to contact me in 48 hours at the number listed on the card. He nodded and I exited his car without any thoughts of violence.

I decided it was best for me to leave my knife at home and take my own car to work. When I got to my office, my boss immediately greeted me with something that sounded like “you were supposed to be here five hours ago”. She then asked if I was ok. I replied “of course I am”, but I was really thinking “I’d like some ham”. She asked for an email with a written explanation of my tardiness, which I said I’d send to her by the end of the day. Right before I left, I googled the lyrics to Angel of Death by Slayer and I sent those to her in an email with a bunch of hearts and smiley faces at the bottom. She called my cell phone about 10 times before I answered and told her that I’d have to call her back because I was too busy taking a shit that smelled exactly like pork chops and broccoli. This, of course, was a lie, but i think she got the point.

When I stepped into the bar, I immediately ordered a glass of whiskey with a shot of whiskey on the side. I hadn’t yet glanced around to see what kind of creeps I would be spending my evening with. Right next to me, I was pleasantly surprised to find a middle-aged man with an attractive young girl who was obviously a prostitute. He was drinking cognac from a snifter and her cheap perfume smelled like it came from the sale rack at Walmart. I waited for him to use the restroom, and softly leaned to her and whispered, “how much for a handjob?” Without taking her eyes off her drink, tears began to stream down her cheek and she ran out of the bar. When the man came back from the bathroom, he looked around, noticeably in a panic. When it was obvious to him that she was gone, he sat at the bar and began drinking heavily.

I struck up a conversation with him about college lacrosse which was on the television. Turns out, his son played for the University of Delaware. I acted completely interested, and before I knew it he was buying me rounds of drinks. I could tell by his douchebag swagger and fancy clothes that eventually he would be looking for cocaine. After an hour or so of free drinks, I dropped a comment about wanting to party. He took the bait and gave me 100 dollars to go get him and I drugs. I gave him a fake number and assured him that I would be back in 20 minutes.

The street lights flew by like giant fireflies and the night sky was a blanket of stars. The cool air felt like a fresh breath of redemption and the moon looked like it was 10 feet away. Iron Maiden was blasting on the radio and I was blowing through red lights like it was a video game.

When I got to the next bar, I immediately walked up to the first group of girls that I saw and bought them all a round of drinks courtesy of some asshole who was waiting for drugs that he was never going to get. They looked at me strangely, probably because I was wearing sunglasses at night, but they were all licking their lips like a pack of hyenas. I had a few more glasses of whiskey and told them that I was a film student in Los Angeles and that I was back visiting family for a few days for the holidays. Across the bar, I spotted Aquilino the Mexican, but I don’t think he recognized me. Or maybe he just chose to ignore me because he saw my knife earlier in the day.

When we step into my apartment, I tried to explain the bloody footsteps and broken alarm clock but it was all coming out wrong. The knife on the table didn’t help much either. These girls were obviously nervous, and asking questions like “why do you have an apartment if you are only here visiting family for a few days?” I mumbled something like “shut your mouth, whore” and then made up some kind of excuse that I can’t recall at the moment, but it seemed to work.

They were all college students at Montclair State University. They were very intrigued about Los Angeles, so I told them how awesome it is, even though it’s a terrible city full of pretentious assholes. I took a bottle of whiskey out of my freezer and after a few shots, they no longer seemed nervous. Naturally, I nonchalantly turned up the heat so they would eventually remove layers of clothing. This worked according to plan. We drank until the sun was starting to come up, but eventually the combination of heat and whiskey shots led to me blacking out of course.

I’m not quite sure what happened, but I woke up on my floor next to a pair of panties and an empty bottle of whiskey with Cars by Gary Numan playing at full volume. I had some weird bruises on me and my alarm clock was ringing. Wait a minute. What the fuck?