The night was over, most of my friends drunk and dead, and I stumbled my way out of the greatest jazz party of all time to go home. I searched desperately, with one eye closed, for the keys of my car and soon panicked when I couldn’t find them. Then, I remembered that I did not bring my keys with me and then I remembered that I did not even have a car. What a wonderful and charming story to tell once I’m sober, I thought, the kind you can say over and over again without it even becoming boring.

So, I walked all the way to Highway 66 and put my arm up in the air and waited for the taxi to arrive. The moon did not feel to give me one right away so I had to raise both of my arms, dance a little bit from hip to hip, and strip while giving tantalizing looks for the taxi to finally come. Painted in red, white, and a red that looked like blue, it also had a strange black tint around it, and the bright purple flames seemed to have replaced the wheels. But since I was drunk, I was not surprised, so I put my leg through the window and pushed myself into the backseat to lie down and sleep and dream of better things to come.

“Let’s go,” I said but I did not hear an answer nor any indication that I had been heard. I decided to sit down instead trying my best to process my thoughts. After a few moments of drooling and staring, I finally realized that there was no rider on the steering wheel and the doors and windows were closed in such a normal way that no drunk person could ever escape. There was a also a lot of dried blood all across the seats and the ceiling of the car and the floor and there was also a black cat that was purring very beautifully next to me. As horrifying thoughts of possible conversion and taxation sermons entered my brain, I began to cry as any manly drunk person would have done. “I just… want to go to Highland Street… close to Horny Fields… that’s all… mom! Mom! You were right all along! The devil has come for me and is gonna rock my worrrrld!”

The car started and began to drive itself and I just looked around, very dizzy, but there was nothing to look at because all the windows were very dark and I could see nothing from outside. My first thought was to lean over to the front seat and see if there was a short, mute person driving but I decided against it because I thought that if I were to tell this story the next time I was as drunk as this, like at tomorrow’s party at Rick’s, then Ulysse’s, then Lucy’s, finding out at the end of my journey would have made a nicer, cooler plot twist. Such great ideas I have with my alcoholic mind! Brilliant!

I nodded to myself for a while trying to find something to talk about while gleams of blackened lights blinded my eyes and horrifying visions of famine, war, torture, killings, and circles of hell imprinted themselves, very softly, in my eyelids.

“So… how’s the family? Mine works in the circus… but they are not dead. I am not dead, am I? If I was I think I could… if I had friends… if I had any reason to live… I’m not as drunk as you think… I’m actually a lot of fun sometimes… if I had friends I’d show you… who are you not to talk to me? Huh? I hate you! I hate… I hope I was dead so you could kick my ass… I hate you and… I hate myself… I’m sorry… I’m sorry, I can’t stop crying. I’m a failure, I’m a weirdo, I’m unloved, and have read way too many books… What have I done? What have I done? Hey, that’s my house!”

The taxi stopped. The door opened by itself and I was flung out of there by a force that grabbed me from my nipples and I fell down on the grass, I stood up, stumbling and tripping, falling again all over my cactus gardens.

“Uh… oh… how much do… do I owe you?” I asked, removing spines from my delicate features, but when I turned to face the driver’s side, I saw no one on the steering wheel. I was very, very shocked. The car started again by itself and it drove off. I passed out immediately and did all kinds of funny drunk things on the garden and discovered, in absolute terror of the true depths and depravations of hell, the next morning as I awoke that even demons are able to take advantage of likeable, funny, charming drunks like me. My wallet was empty. The horror!

I like to write for some reason so I’m doing it here. I’ll try write something every day, and hopefully, get better at it.