The last thing I remembered was that bar in Monterey. Her smooth recklessness making way for her subsequent, "spending the night."
The heat was unbearable and the town smelled like ash from the fires a few miles away.
"Fuck it all," I thought out loud, "It's only business, and the drinking doesn't even start till noon."
So I dropped 20 hits of acid and waited for her to wake up. It was a bad idea considering she woke up speaking basic Russian and somehow I understood her.
"When did I take Russian?" I thought out loud again.
The cool California breezes blew across my nostrils and I thought again of the fire.
"Ya lublu tevya," she said, and I locked and loaded my GLock.
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- Mr. Meister
- Lynchburg, Virginia, United States
- Hello, my name is Dylan, and like my namesake, Dylan Thomas, not only do I encourage feedback, I challenge my readers to tell me their every thought on my words because without the emotion a reader feels, writing is pointless.
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