The 3-Prompt Weekend Freewrite
Money was spent on drugs and of course more and more drugs. We had a bottle of gin....that was an invincibility potion for us. Becuz our portion of it never ran out. I mean, literally. I think the brand was called Ruttegen's after a farm around here, but anyway we won a lifetime supply of this Ruttegen's gin at a raffle at the nearby pub. They started us off with six cases, and now we're invincible.
So none of the money went toward booze. It all went toward drugs. Cocaine, specifically. And when that arrived, we really became invincible. We tried to reason with the runner to stick around, call up some peeps, but that didn't work, and now we're still all by myself.
Yeah, now that I'm invincible I refer to myself as 'we.' It seems more god-like, don't you think? We do.
I loved camping and going down rapids...oh yeh..that was our code for saying how we love camping on the next line then going down real rapid to get it. And how many lines has it been?
If doesn't matter, becuz we're on the second case of gin now, and we can use the empty case to throw away scraps. You wouldn't believe the kind of eating we can do now that we're a god...and good god oh yes we are legion....and would it not take a legion of god-like hungry things to devour 6 pounds of ham like it was nothing and only now are we dispensing with the gristle?!!
All of this must've started somewhere...maybe the pub?...and thank god it did becuz we've never felt this alive.
Not since we smashed our head through the screen of the old tube granny watches the morning news on...have we felt that blistering attack of lifey life....and it ain't gonna get us....I'm um..we're yeh invincible now....
A sleeping bag coat we're not going to be, but a ready consortium of blood-thirsty hornet queens....we'll be their downy yellow-jackets that they wear to bed on the cold, cold nights before they died...but we never do all blood-speckled well-fed like a rhino you got to close to...I mean invincible...and still apparently camping becuz...
We were playing a drinking game...whenever we have to spit a pile of blood and gore onto the floor, then we know it's time for one more bottle of Ruttegen's....we're on the fourth case now.....yes and if we happen to swallow down, then it's one more shot in the thigh from Mr. Nail Gun over here...my dear friend.
It don't matter....the ceiling fan is spinning wildly........
I'm never gonna die.