Tweekers.

Awoke at three-thirty with a case of the shivers. Wracked with nightmares of ecstasy.

Was feeling quite randy this morning, it being another Bug Day. So's after a light breakfast of Victory Coffee and a spotted banana concurring single-sided chat with deranged hobos and demented homosexuals, I decided to visit a 24hr porno theater that is located somewhere in the vicinity of Mission Beach to relieve much built up angst. The sky was a drizzly gray and the sidewalk blossoms were in full bloom. Will somebody please pick that crack'd out bitch up outta the mud, awready? Men huddle in groups sipping Victory Coffee in other peoples overcoats coughing and smoking "rollies".

Just released from county, tattooed cholo grabs his fat unmentionable as I stride by in the cold dark air, squeezes it nasty and blurts out, "Damn, homes! Didn't know you was a bitch!" He who scopes out white flesh in the showers and slaps the asses of fellow bunk mates. Just in jest, you understand, just in jest.

So, I jump the blue line and depart in Old Town were I proceed to walk past the local nut house, screams can be heard, and the half mile to the promised land. It is still only seven in the morning, Bug Day starts early for the unwary, I slip into the adult shop under the scrutinizing gaze of a tweaking female with greasy slicked back hair, baggy jeans and black halter-top blabbing on a cell-phone at the entrance. Her face a mass of scarred pimples and withered tissue. Plunk my six bills down in front of a real cutey-pie and is buzzed in.

Darkness and the air is thick with ammonia, dried semen, and the grunts and moans of unbridled lust. At least on the two telescreens. Some red-head is getting the bajeebus banged out of her by two strung out jerks. All three look old and tired. In the theaters themselves, three old farts, two quivering junkies, one black hobo, and a partridge in a pair tree. C'mon, people, sing it with me.

Sit and wait. What else? Wouldn't you? Door flings open and kooky-ass tweaker woman from outside leaps in and jerks around the front rows, babbling at her demons, as old coot strokes sad shriveled tallywacker to vie for her approval. She is wearing red thong on the outside of her jeans. Her eyes are all aglow. Keeps fiddle-fucking with trash can. Chicken pecks the floor.

She jerks and eyes wild bursts out to no one, "Why do you guys like dick so much?"

"Why do you like drugs so much?" I retort from the back darkness, chuckles from the crowd. I can still work 'em.

She goes into a soliloquy about God and her rotting pussy ("Drips green juices! And itchy!"), rolling my eyes, I slide into secondary theater. Girl vaporizes into crystals and is replaced by handsome Mexican in "chorts" who is checking out my dry goods. Well, time to take out the guns, one supposes. So I whip out my big and nasty and it is on like Donkey Kong. Boy slurps and sucks like a brand new Hoover and brings me to a much needed climax and then slithers into the inky void like a phantom.

Door buzzes and Fagin enters and plops next to me smelling like last weeks sewage. "Hey, buddy." He wheezes halitosis into my face. "You wanna get high?"

"No." I sneer. "Drugs are for losers." Cross my legs all lady-like and snort in disdain. Fagin vibrates out of focus a shivering teeth grinding wreck and I am left alone with some little Yoda staring and grinning, jiggling change in pocket.

Side note: In all my years as a homo in the service, why is it in these porno joints there are always, and I mean always, some fucking Elder who will stand there hours on end smacking gum and jiggling change in their polyester pant pockets? Why?

Time to move on. Whack it a few as the movie continues to heat up and the older queens do their stylized ballet around me as I ignore the lot of them. They are not worthy. That is until door buzzes and slick college type fruit comes in making a grand entrance, but I see he is sniffing and bouncing around theater like a ping-pong ball. Am I the only one here not fried? He walks into other theater as old perverts raise their heads like animals sensing danger. New Meat. The Exodus to the other side entails. I am alone.

Enter another Mexican hottie. Glances are made, soldiers are positioned for inspection and I decide to be the passive and loving type. However, that shit is cut short, cabrone. If you wanna turn me off quick and solid, wear a goddamn cock ring! Can't stand those fuckers! If you are not able to get it up on your own, may God have mercy on your sphincter.

Three biggest turn offs whilst out a-cruisin':

Cock Rings.

Amyl.

And fucking smelly, feelthy penises.

Ugh.

Well, after only two short lickity-lickies, I got up and left the cock ring wearing bozo throbbing solo in the dark. Can't lower my standards for a second. Got a reputation to keep up. Well, left that house of ill-repuke and dodged over to Del Taco for some bean and cheese burritos. Poot!

Spent the rest of the afternoon sitting in Balboa Park, reading Slaughterhouse Five and watching the guys play volleyball under dull gray skies. Start new job Monday at a local Hampton Inn. Front Desk clerk...again.

Yippee!