Wednesday, August 5, 2009

Nothing to be done.

I got myself good and superbly drunk the other night, hanging out with Crystal. It was late and she didn't want to get a ride with the guy she came with. She spent the walk home asking me why this guy (a different guy) wouldn't come around, and I pretty much asked her the same thing about a girl. In the end it was just a lot of me telling her that she's pretty and everything---which she is, I wasn't lying. But there was this one great moment when she dumped her bag on Brereton because she'd lost her keys. We went back to Gooski's, to where she had been sitting and the tall Italian dude who looked like Max Von Sydow and definitely had a neat design mapped out for himself and her and didn't like me on account of it was still sitting there, grousing about it. She poked her head in the door and in her apologetic voice, which come to think about it she has an apologetic voice all around, said, "I'm just looking for my keys." I poked in because I just wanted to see the gang again and it just seemed kind of funny. Besides I'm sure it burned that dude up pretty bad. What a dump.

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