Friday night I had too much to drink. Far too much to drink.



I planned on a quiet night in or perhaps going to the CCUG open micbut I ended up getting a call from my friend Josh who runs Club Underground at the Spring Street Tavern. He needed somebody to work the door and would pay a modest fee and throw in some free booze as well.



Some = all. I drank all the booze. There’s none left. Go to any liquor store today. You’ll just find the employee shrugging and saying something like “I don’t know. It’s… all gone.” It’s all gone because I drank it all in one night working the door for a hip hop show.



As the cab drove me home that night, I stuck my head out the window like a dog because the breeze on my face helped fight the dizzyness. I asked the driver to stop a few blocks short of my house because I wanted to walk around a bit before I got home. It was a beautiful night out and if I were to lay down at that moment I would have got the spins something awful. This was about 2:45 AM.



Pay attention to that time, there. I’m taking a writing class at The Learning Annex and I’m trying something out my instructor calls “foreshadowing”.



About 15 minutes into my winding journey home I stumbled across three African (like, actual African. They had the accents) teenagers hanging out in an open minivan. One of them called out to me and says “Hey, man! You know where we can get some ruffies?”



I thought for a moment about how awesome it is that I look like a date rapist at first glance, politely tell them that I don’t and ask why they’d want ruffies in the first place.



“Because they get you high, right?”



Oh, thank god! For a second I thought they pegged me for a sex offender but in reality they just thought I was a drug addict! I tell them what it’s commonly used for, why you shouldn’t use that and that it’s probably hard to find anyway but I wouldn’t know because I’ve never even looked for the stuff before! I mean, come on!



We talk for a while, I assure them I don’t have any drugs and don’t know where to find any, only now realizing I could’ve totally pranked them by telling them to try smoking nutmeg or dog shit for a buzz. I then invite them to my show the next night at the CCUG, regretting that I didn’t have any business cards with me (they never showed up anyway so fuck ’em). We parted ways and I stumbled in the vague direction of my home. Little did I know that my night was far from over…



You like what I just did there? More Leaning Annex magic my instructor taught me called a “cliffhanger”. Thanks to my instructor, mystery novel author Jeanette Michaels and be sure to check out her book –







Buy it at her etsy store today!