i can fly! i can fly, i can fly!okay, there's this married hetero couple i run with here in ottawa that i reckon it's time i introduce to my faithful blog readers. let's call them the trickster and the feminist... they live just around the corner from me, and i've gotten into the habit of swinging by their flat (which we have affectionately coined 'the sixties stoner lounge') once a week or so to smoke some joints, have a few drinks, and bullshit...
saturday, after brunching with the yenta and spending the afternoon drunk (too many mamosa's) and stoned roaming around centretown with a.b.'s flatmate, i roll into the trickster and feminist's flat for a few... i enter and the trickster is on the telephone chatting (i would later learn) with the purple pole. i was informed that the purple pole had just rang to announce that he was going to join us for a few drinks.
we drink and wait for the purple pole's arrival... smoke a few joints... consume the contents of a wine bottle. bullshit some more.
then, the phone rings again. turns out it's (i would later learn) fat fag, an old nemesis of the purple pole's who p.p. has sworn us never to expose him to... one of those small world situations we don't fully understand, but choose to go along with. the trickster, it seems, has invited him over as well. fat fag apparently was running with two dreadful bureaucrats, the thought of which made the feminist immediately freak out...
feminist: "trickster (not his real name), we can't fucking hang out with them!"
trickster: "why?"
feminist: "we're too stoned. these chicks will be all horrible and awful, babbbling about their horrible jobs and horrible existences... i can't fucking deal with them when i'm stoned."
trickster: "well, i can't very well uninvite them now."
feminist: "fuck... i'm gonna pretend to be really sick."
the feminist races into the bedroom.
evil: "well, we could go back to my place... wouldn't that be a fucking gong show?! you invite your friends over and they arrive to an empty house with the lights off... jajajajajaja... but you could explain your way out of it another time... we could just hang out at my place and smoke dope and drink there."
next thing i know, the feminist bursts back into the sixties stoner lounge, dressed into her pajamas and clicks off all the lights: "we gotta get the fuck outta here! let's go to evil's... i'm not dealing with these types tonight..."
trickster: "you think?"
feminist: "yes! evil, what do you think?"
by this point, sitting in the dark, this breath-taking sense of urgency fell over me. i didn't know what to expect, but thought if the feminist was reacting this negatively to these people, we needed to make tracks out of the stoner lounge pronto...
evil: "sure... it'd be sorta fucking hilarious too..."
trickster: "okay, let's get the fuck outta here.... quick!"
trickster grabs his runners, and starts frantically grabbing any booze he can find... i was sort of incredulous about the whole affair, but cautiously began lacing up my shoes.
"faster! they'll be here any second!" trickster screamed. i didn't even have my shoes laced when the trickster raced out the front door of the flat. the feminist and i started reaching for our jackets.
as soon as he was out the door, he was back in. "quiet! quiet! they're here! they're outside! hide!" he flicks off the remaining lights and the three of us dive into the kitchen to hide from fat fag and his bureaucrat friends... i was completely in panic mode by this point. we were tip-toeing across the hardwood floors so as not to indicate to anyone in the hall of our hasty retreat into the kitchen.
and then i hear it...
"just kidding!"
fucking trickster! the whole fucking thing was a mindfuck. no one had even called... he pretended to talk to them on the phone. the three of us then looked at each other, and howled for probably twenty minutes or more...
funny... but a little too funny... this act demands revenge... slowly but surely trickster, i'll get revenge... wait for it.
