the short story project


The High Life

It was a privilege to be invited to one of Eminem’s parties. He wasn’t one for crowds. Some called him moody and broody, but he was really just private and shy. See, as his friend, I got him. Standing there, looking over at him, licking one of my purple paper shots, I think: ‘There’s so much people don’t know about him.’ Like his wonky leg. He had a mangly leg. He had hidden it for so long coz he didn’t want anyone to know about it. But I knew. I raise my shot paper to him in an acknowledging ‘Cheers!’. He raises his shot glass back.

It was the kinda party you never want to leave early. The colours, the lights. Everything’s moving. Rihanna has been paying me attention all night, I think to make Eminem jealous. We’re dancing. Her excitedly. I simply sway from side-to-side, with a lazy smile on my face. Before I know it, she’s kissing me. Her tongue is so long it’s almost choking me. Seriously, like it’s all the way down my throat. I notice she has one of those tongues like a reptile, it’s split at the tip and everything. I won’t really tell many people that though, I know she wouldn’t want it to get out.

Her baby is in the club with her – weird how it’s Egyptian. Little Cleopatra’s got a really old person’s face on her little body. Creeps me out if I’m honest, but I keep my thoughts on her little Indian baby to myself.

It’s all fading and becoming unclear now. Dazed, I look around me, I’m on the couch. It’s filthy, clothes everywhere. And the smell! I can’t stop scratching the itch in my hair. There’s little papers everywhere, but all the colours have been licked off. I just need a coloured paper, just the one paper. Just one lick, coz I need to get back to the party.

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