| |
|
We sat in her caravan for 3 days.
We took an enormous amount of drugs.
I became, at various stages, a Superhero, a Russian Tank Driver, a small child, and a Porn Star.
Old enemies became friends again in a moment of Ecstasy-fuelled joy.
Cars were sold, stereos dropped from great heights.
Nude photos were exchanged.
The Filth came close to nabbing us, but I got rid of the Dame before my bank balance bottomed out and my veins exploded.
Hunter Thompson. I mean it.
Anyway...she's gone. Now I seem to be attracting all manner of clones of her. They want to hang around with me and get fucked up.
I don't know if there's much chance of that. I really went off the rails this week...good thing there was that LEAVING thing to end the revelry. I mean, I've had some insights, sure, and I've had a fucking INCREDIBLE time. But if I let myself go....rubber room. Seriously.
Anyway, I have the perfect U-Boat to build.
Back to work, I say. |
|
|
