No Going Back

She wore blue lipstick and wandered aimlessly underneath hot-pink dotted lights in a dark room with designer drink in hand. The crowd craved each other’s attention in silence and assumed apathy. The music bent the walls and turned the place into a breathing organism of psychedelic music and malevolent morose. Pills of all colors spun and skated from under tables as people walked, ran and danced sweaty faced and furiously fucked up. Sunglasses reflecting the dark dance floor and the lights on stage. White-hair-model types, cigarettes in mouths, young and old, vampires and the naive, all in unappealing ceremony.

“Hey, don’t we know each other?”

“The oldest line in the book. Nice.”

“No, I mean it. Sally, The Goat, introduced us.”

“You know Sally?”

“She’s my aunt.”

“No shit?”

“Yeah, you were wearing the same heart-shaped glasses you’re wearing now that day. Pool party. I had the doob, remember?”

“Oh, Greg. Right.”

“It’s George, but close enough. You’re Margot, right?”

“That’s me.”

“Can I buy you a drink, Margot?” He said leaning into her competing with the loudness of the band. “Anything you like.”

“I’ll take a Milk On The Bloody Rocks.”

“Sounds good–I’ll make it two. Be back in a jiff. Don’t go anywhere.”

The pink and orange strobes waved in warmth through her vibrating skull as she crossed her legs and waited for the wanker with her whistle-wetter. This is why I never go out, she though. This is nowhere.

“Here you go, sexy,” he said handing her the Bloody drink.

“Thanks.”

“You like this trash,” he asked raising an eyebrow in the direction of the band.

“I am a huge fan of Angels From Hell. They’re the only reason I came out tonight.”

“Shit…I am sorry, I didn’t mean to…”

“No, it’s okay. You must like that soft shit like Black Faggot.”

“Funny. And, yes, I love that band.”

“Figures.”

“What?”

“Black Faggot is the Disney version of Angels From Hell.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

“Anyway, you get along with your aunt?”

“Which one, the goat?”

“Yes, the goat. You have two goats that are related to you?”

“Well, no but–“

“Precisely.”

“She is pretty groovy. I mean, hardly anybody can understand her. We bought a cute bell that we hang around her neck. She has the entire backyard to gallop around now…well, since her husband died, you know?”

“She hates that bell.”

“Really? We thought she was nuts about it.”

“She was nuts that she couldn’t gallop hard enough to get it off herself.”

“Oh…I had no idea.”

“That’s what happens when you don’t speak goat.”

“Yeah, I suppose you’re right.”

“Can you shut up for the rest of the show, please? I don’t want to miss this band.”

“Umm…of course.”

The Angels levitated on stage in black leather and began their drop-tuned terror of slow and spinning strident pandemonium. The fog machine reached the entire place and everybody was lost and afraid if ever, they would find their way back.

 

She smiled and sipped.

 

There was no going back.

∞