Sketchy Bill 5: Coco

Instead of stumbling around looking like an idiot, I decided it would be easier (and safer, since Razor didn't like quick movements) to sit down on the couch. I was briefly interrupted in this endeavor when Patty reintroduced herself (she really is sweet, but a complete burnout), Bill's girlfriend reentered the room, and Bill himself showed up with a small coffee grinder.

This turned out to be Bill's special coffee grinder, by which I mean this is what he used to chop up his weed before sticking it in a pipe. I had never seen anyone do this before, so I stood around for a bit watching the Cheech and Chong farce of Bill and girlfriend and Patty arguing about how best to go about smoking dope.

The argument briefly moved into slightly more familiar territory, as the girlfriend (whose name is Sheryl, come to think of it) moved on to trashing Bill's CD's in a manner that was overtly cheerful but obviously malicious. Something was still up, however, I was still at a loss as to what was making this woman angry.

Incidentally, this is where the term "Sherylized" comes from, which is the state of your CD collection once you let either me or Sheryl come sort through them for an hour or so. Complete disarray.

But the tension was broken. Sheryl had calmed down some, Razor was drinking wine again, and Patty was happily blithering along about something no one was paying any attention to. After another slug of wine, I remembered that I was supposed to be unlacing my boots, and proceeded to sit down on the black leather couch again--as I realized that Bill was right. That shit was good, and I was queasy, and in fact...

Yes, folks, I yarked. That shit was STRONG, and I'm not afraid to say it almost made it FUN to vomit, which is a point that a lot of people miss about taking drugs. It's not "why would you want to take a drug that makes you vomit," it's "why wouldn't you want to take a drug that even makes it fun to puke?" It's all a matter of perspective, see?

But that's an aside. I made it into the bathroom without incident, then rinsed out my mouth with yet more chardonnay in the kitchen sink. The (e) was creeping up my spine like an electric leech, which got me to thinking about time frames. Specifically, the time it would take the LSD to kick in, and whether I could get some synergy going with both drugs.

This is known as candy flipping, kids, and you shouldn't try this at home. Or anyone else's home, for that matter. Especially Sketchy Bill's.

I sat down on something hard, with a bump on the top of it. I heard a muffled squeal, apparently coming from the adjacent couch cushion. I turned my head towards the sound, just as the couch produced a very sleepy and very confused young lady.

Named, of course, Coco.

Coco was beautiful. Coco was clad in a black leather coat (which she'd thrown over herself to sleep) and a sort of almost there black dress with black hose and black shoes. And hey, it was fairly dark in there, so it's no wonder I'd missed her.

Coco sat up. Our eyes met, and time stopped.

I could hear my heart beating in my ears. The room was silent. We were both completely surprised by each other, and (initially) mutually attracted.

My first thought: "There's no way this couch just spontaneously generated a girl."

My second thought: "If there was ever a couch that could do that, Bill would own it."

My third through fifth thoughts weren't of much use to this narrative, because they were mainly internal battles concerning whether it was appropriate to start in on the Song of Solomon in front of other people, whether I could in fact remember any of the Song of Solomon, and finally about the very unhappy incident that occurred last time I tried to use it to seduce a strange woman. And that was just some stripper, not a woman who lived in a black leather couch.

Her first thought was "who is this asshole sitting on my ankle?"

There was that complex interplay of slight pupil dilations and ghosts of smiles, and I knew--it was meant to be.

We were snapped back into the real world (such as it was) by the temperature of the entire room dropping 40 degrees instantly. I heard a Joan Rivers cackle behind me, the most bitter and unpleasant sound in the whole world...and I knew for whom Sheryl was sharpening her claws.