You told me you could not be with someone as sad and cold as me. So I decided to wait for death. This made you sad and angry. So now I am trying to live again, but I fear this will be more painful to the both of us than anything else I could do.

A once substantial gothic-industrial scene in Gainesville has degenerated to about ten purists. Some because they can’t bury the carcass. They stand over it, holding its hand, desperately believing the breath of life may still visit. The rest remain because they have no place else to go.

I haven’t seen these people in almost six months, but I wanted to see…if only for a moment…what remained. I open the doors to the club and see the five or six kids at the bar and am immediately confronted by the leader.

“How, are you!? Goodness, haven’t seen you in months! You must tell me all the news!”

“Well, I recently…”

“So I hear you’re working in town now? That’s great, maybe we’ll see more of you…in fact, tell me, what would it take to make you a regular here?”

“I don’t know, Larry. Maybe women, if that is in your power.”

He rocks his bald head back and forth thoughtfully, “Hmmm…it is…sometimes.”

Ah, Larry. Larry, Larry, quite contrary; how does your garden grow? Is it laced with pimpernel, glancing to and fro? Or is that the scent of rapturous contempt, imbued with subtle mind control?

I hadn’t even planned on staying there. There was debauchery taking place in other parts of town that promised a far more entertaining night than these worn out, incestuous, scenesters. But he sent her to me, and I stayed.

We talked for hours, getting drunker, until we forgot that we had to be at work in a couple of hours, and decided to go home with one another. He sent her to me and I accepted. Now I have to examine the consequences.

I can sometimes figure out who is behind the weirdness I often become involved in, but I rarely can say anything as to motives. One thing I have learned about these god damn telepaths, though, is that they do not exert themselves unless the action is beneficial to them in a very poignant manner. And as I stroked her shoulder, I wondered what he might be using me for. It might not become apparent for weeks, months, or even years. They have a lot of time on their hands, and develop the most complex of schemes. I should have never gone to the goth club that night.

I should have been at old wave night. Where two lesbians were making out on the couch. These girls were going at it…making a real spectacle of themselves, falling into the laps of persons sitting on the couch next to them as their bodies were grinding to the music.

A friend comes up from behind me and says, “There’s something you don’t see everyday.”

I replied, “Yeah, well, you see that black thing they’re humping on?”


“That’s my overcoat.”

“Why don’t you go ask them for it?”

Hmmm…I thought drunkenly…that sounds like a good idea, “Alright.”

I tapped the one on top of the other on the shoulder, “Excuse me ladies, would you mind if I collected my overcoat from you?”

They stopped kissing, looked up and blushed, “We’re sorry, we didn’t know it was there…”

“Quite alright,” I said, “I hope you have a pleasant evening.”

They laughed at me, turned to each other, and began humping again. Cute as kittens.

So I go to the dance floor for the last song. A violent Pixies romp, as I would soon find out, as the girl dancing in front of me punched me square in the chest. I looked up and smiled at her and she smiled back. And then took another swing. But this time I was ready and grabbed her arm, using her own drunken force to pull her past me. She began laughing and grabbed my arm to do the same. We ended up spinning each other around in circles, taking out dancers left and right, until she finally lost her balance and crashed into me putting us both on the floor. When the carnage was finally cleared, she caught my eyes again, still dancing, smiled, and took another wild swing at me that caught nothing but air. This is where I should have been tonight.

Instead, I am here alone, hopped up on ephedrine to get me through my impending work day, wondering what sort of horrible plot I’ve involved myself in with these creatures that had almost left me alone. I had given up, and I was ok with that. No good can come of this, you’ll see.

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