"Why do we always do this shit at night?" He grimaced as he reached for the charred light bulb with one hand and the flecked remnants of methamphetamine with the other.
I shrugged. What can I say - though he was philosophically right. Why do we always do this shit at night. It's not like we sleep during the day. Sleep - those little slices of death. How I loathe them.
I glance out the window moon swings 'round at supersonic speed, in the distance fat man calls "Tamales!Tamales!" up in the hills - Toby places the lighter under the bulb, open end to his mouth - flick! Gray smoke warps around inside like a Texas tornado swirling contortions of Blank Death. I see the dope hit and his eyes light up like florescent lamps. I take the bulb and repeat his actions. The metallic tastes flows down to my lungs activating junk sick cells. The shot of what seems like 60 watts tingle up my spine back of skull hair stands and pow to the forehead. I begin to jerk in mechanical galvanized movements - vibrating like a tuning fork. Tongue clicks, teeth grind.
Toby was laying back on the tattered futon - blue basketball tank top with matching shorts. My lascivious eye wondered to his limp but long cock resting on those sagging balls. I wanted to reach over and grope that fucker - but, alas he being helplessly hopelessly heterosexual. No - this fucker was here only for my dope however he was not only eye candy but a good conversationalist.
"You hear 'bout Carlos?" Toby spat - small balls of white spittle slowly flinging through the air. Clik-clik went his movements. A spastic robot. "Cops raided his place. Took everything."
I didn't give a fuck - my thought wondered into last night. After an evening at some straight club with Toby, he picks up some chunky American girl and we three drunkenly return to my sordid flat. She wasn't actually ugly - big boobs, big hips - the kind I guess straight guys jack off about. Or maybe it was just the easy pussy. Feigning sleep I repair to my room only to peer through the cracked door and see in the blue light of the flickering set Toby screwing that hooch. Didn't give a rat's ass about the girl, my bloodshot eye held it's gaze on his long cock sliding rapidly in and out of her wet hole, his balls slapping against her vaginal lips the sighing grunt Toby made after five minutes of this and when he pulled out his white fluid dribbling out after him. I slithered back to my bed and took care of myself - fell asleep in that mess. Next morning, they both were gone. He returned in the afternoon and we went to score.
Standing in an alleyway of garbage and shit under a blinding yellow sun and dazzling blue Mexican sky - paranoia as white sedan with darkened windows rolls up. "Cartel." Toby mutters hands in pocket looking down. The watchful eye of the taco vendor on the corner scrutinize our every move.
After copping from The Hand, broken sidewalk rushes under our feet back to my joint for a blast. Nothing on the tele, only orange juice in the fridge, filthy bathroom over run with ants. My carpet was covered in marijuana stems, food containers, meth papers...It's amazing what you notice when you're tweaking.
Toby wanted to watch porn. Fine, I thought, torture me. As the video progressed he got half a hard on. Nothing more sexy than watching a cock grow in shorts unaided by hand. Inching upward, pulsing once, inching outward...
In the most wicked sleazy perverted way, I leered at him and asked, "Hey, Tobe, you wanna blow job?"
"Dude, you know I'm not no fag." He retorts all the while groping his semi-stiff organ. "Your cool and all, man, but don't fucking ask me again."
I sank deep in the futon - anywhere I wanted to be but there right now. I took the light bulb - flickwhooshweeeee! I glance over at him - long and lean his body was, amber eyes encircled by thick dark lashes, copper skin, short cropped curly hair. I lay there broken and in pain - vibrating in torrid lust amplified my the methamphetamine.
"That girl I met last night?" He finally said, white tongue licking thick lips. "I got a date with her again tonight - we supposed to meet outside Las Pulgas." Las Pulgas was a straight dance club on Avenida Revu - been there once. Groped drunk boys passing in the crowd. "So, I gotta jet. Gonna go home and get ready."
After taking two more hits, we shook hands and said later to each other. I watched his skinny frame walk out the door. Why am I such a fool for those types of boys? Why am I so addicted to this chaos and not only that - but lustfully to revel in it. At that time I hated myself for it, worried of the out come if it out come. Mortified by my addiction and sordid homosexuality. The conflicts that raged in me drove me literally insane.
Now? I care about nothing and no one. So jaded I have become - and antisocial. I loathe most faggots to this day - I see through all their amateurish attempts at deceit and seduction. I should know, I have tried them all. Trying to attain all that I have accomplished in the past and finally realizing, as it had done to me, leaving them bitter and empty. And like me, they always do this shit at night.
Oh, and two days later, Toby was found shot to death behind Hotel Coliso off of Avenida Coahuilla. I didn't care.