Lights Out
“So alright, let’s party,” Black Widow coos. Though her head reels, vision being semi-blurry, she laughs as the black man puts more chunks into her drink. Cocking an eyebrow, she giggles and chugs the drink.
“How ‘bout a chaser?” Packing the pipe, he hands it to her, which she smokes. After she does not pass the pipe back, he says, “you can just finish that,” as if he had a choice.
She puffs, and her head begins to wobble, threatening to detach and float away like a balloon. Inhaling harder, she tries to keep herself grounded, only to feel her body feel as if it were filled with helium. Noises seem to grow louder, and before she realizes it, she has smoked all of the pipe’s contents, which causes her to hand the hollow shell back to her black stranger with a whimpering frown, “it’s gone.”
“There’s more where that came from,” his teeth glowed white in the darkness of the room. “Don’t you worry about that.” His hands whirled around in a blur that she could not focus on.
“Does this porno shit actually get you off?” She glanced at him twisty-eyed, ballooning herself up towards the kitchen to refill her glass with orange juice. “I mean,” she called from the kitchen while filling her glass as he smoked, “it’s just a bunch of hogwash; it doesn’t make me feel horny.”
“Well, I’m feelin’ a tinglin’ down there, if that’s what you mean, Sweetie.” As she floated back into the room, he handed her a pipe. “You mean to tell me that this doesn’t turn you on in the slightest?”
“No,” she sighed. “Perhaps I’m just too jaded, to the point where sex does not excite me any more. Is that bad?”
“I think you just need to try new things,” he smiled at her suggestively as she huffed down the pipe. “You ever been with a black man before? Maybe you should consider trying that.”
“Maybe you should consider filling up my glass again,” she pointed to her glass of orange juice with a tilted expression. “I know what a black man is like. I wasn’t born yesterday, ya know.”
Crumbling up chunks into her drink, he inquired, “so you’ve been with a black man before? You know what it’s like? Isn’t it different?”
“Honey,” she handed him back the pipe and picked up the drink. “A penis is a penis. It’s not all that special, and the color doesn’t really change anything.”
“So you don’t think there’s a difference?” He filled the pipe and puffed on it as she sipped down her drink. “You mean to tell me that there’s no difference between a black man and a white man?”
“I mean to tell you that there is one thing there is a difference in,” she teased. “A man and a woman. I can tell the difference in a woman licking my twat than a man going down on me, even if they go into licking my asshole.”
“You like your asshole being licked? You’ve had that done before? What’s that like?”
“You haven’t had your asshole licked before? What, are you sheltered? Next, you’re going to tell me you’ve never licked an asshole before, too, huh?”
He looked down sheepishly and handed her the packed pipe. “I ain’t ever licked an asshole before. Are you crazy girl?”
“Dogs and cats lick their asses everyday. What’s so wrong with that? You don’t see us yelling at them for licking their assholes, so why should people make a big deal of other’s tossing salads?”
“Tossing what? Tossing salads, is that what that’s called? You just ruined my love of lettuce…”
“Come now,” she took another hit, no longer being able to tell where her body stopped and the room started. “You’ll be alright. I’m sure of it.”
The front door opened with a click. “Who’ll be alright?” Kieser looked around slightly paranoid.
“Come sit your ass down in here with us, boy,” the black man called out. “What took you so long? Did you get some refreshments?”
Another black man came through the door, and Kieser answered, “I forgot the refreshments. The store was closed, but I did not come back empty-handed. I ran into a friend.”
Kieser walked into my bedroom with the black man. I tried to object, but the black man on the couch with me pointed my face towards a red line on the table. “Do it up,” he ordered.
As I sniffed back the line, I notice Kieser come out of my room carrying the television. It was his to take in the first place, but it was sort of disturbing to know I would not longer have the comfort of vision on my room. I was too busy sniffing back the drips to object, feeling my face grow warm and numb, the colors growing even more vivid.
Kieser tried to hand the television to the black man he walked in with, but the man told him that he would get it on his way out. The two of them came into the living room with us, the new black man putting lines out on the table while the man next to me packed the pipe again, this time circulating it between hits. Kieser looked jolly as could be.
“Ladies first,” motioned the black man to the dark red lines on the table. They looked different from the ones I’ve seen, almost glowing, but I chalked it up to the new vision of my distortion. Smiling at him seemed to be a lot of work.
Head down, I grabbed the cut straw off the table and inserted it into my nose. My swimming head felt like a flopping fish with the movement. Eyes crossed involuntarily, though nobody else could see.
Plugging my other nostril with my finger, I sniffed atop the line, making it disappear into my head. My sense of smelled had been long ago killed. I felt the hair on my arms rise.
My body shivered, then convulsed. I guess it were as if I was having a seizure, but my mind did not comprehend any of this, merely feeling as if I were shivering in the cold. Head rolling back, I felt drool at the corner of my mouth, dripping down my face.
Time stopped being important. I was sunk into the couch, feeling like a fish on a hook underwater. I didn’t bother to fight, merely letting myself be reeled in.
Eyes closed, though I don’t recall when. Colors merely glided my mind. Words from others transformed into colors.
Finally, I felt the helium forcing it’s way up, allowing me to leave the confines of my body. My only concern became how high I could rise. How much higher could I really be?
Up above my body, I could see that I had given up on caring, allowing myself to wet and defecate myself. The boys scampered around, putting their mouths to mine for a while, pulling at my arms. After a bit, they saw I was dead.
What was the only thing left to do? They took off my clothes when Kieser disappeared out the front door. They finally got to feel what it was like to be with a white girl.
THE END
What would've happened by not partying?
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