#roinnte

"I’m telling you, I got no fucking clue what that kid I partied with fed me on New Year’s. I was too busy trying to tune out his incisive, loud, constant yakking. It was like he had the Energizer bunny itself shoved up his ass.” He pauses to take a quick drag off his cigarette and push his glasses up his forehead so that he could rub at his eyes. The mere thought of that kid is still enough to drain him entirely. Nihilistic interdimensional traveler or otherwise --- Wes was simply not made to party with the younger crowd.     “I could very well still be high. I might be dead and you’re just talking to another me that didn’t have to go through that mortifying experience. Maybe you’re talking to my ghost. Fuck --- I don’t even remember half the night. It was, like, this rave out in the woods somewhere, and I was already blackout drunk and, like, that’s all I remember. Next thing I know I wake up in the kid’s bed, entirely naked and covered in glitter head-to-fucking-toe. Would’ve been right up your alley, man. You should’ve been there.” Wes shrugs, taking another quick drag, “Maybe that way you’d have saved me from what I’m sure was some very sloppy, very embarrassing, very regrettable sex.”

“Hey --- hey! Fuck’re you doing with that tree?” That’s his tree --- one she should stay the fuck away from if she knows what’s good for her. God, Wes wishes that was even remotely close to being a threat when, in reality, it’s more a simple statement of fact. Some people he’s told have wanted to go with him before --- under the tree and into another universe --- but he hasn’t let anyone come with and he never will, ever. It creates a vicious, endless cycle and such a fucking mess, even people with just one point of IQ would know to stay the fuck away from it.     Too late for him. Not so much with the rest of the universe(s).     “Get away from the motherfucking tree!”