In case you haven’t pieced it together just yet, I think I may have hooked up with Nicoletta the night before, and maybe just maybe was a contributing factor in whatever skirmish took place between her and Jeanine. It was becoming standard procedure to have delayed correspondence between myself and the other guy who took over once I had too many vodka redbulls and scratchy shots of tequila. Not to mention the cocaine. The other guy would take over and send me letters the next day about what had happened. Only, the letters weren’t actually letters, they were consequences. It was a fun little game.
Before I knew it the sun was down and I was surrounded by a bunch of people I had never met before. The daylight hours became a hazily rushed memory of snorting, drinking and thrusting. I truly do not mean to be crass, but if I leave out details, what’s the point? Anyway, sitting across from me in a recliner chair was a dude with long hair and a bong in his hand talking about how Bernie got fucked in the primaries two years ago.
Nick Denardi 