September 23, 2005

The End of Billy

Yeah, you can all rejoice or feel sorry for me or whatever, but I just can't be strung along like yesterday's meat anymore.

Billy and I and a couple of his friends went out tonight. (Classes on Fridays are for losers.) I'm beyond the point where getting shitfaced on really cheap vodka and walking around downtown is fun, but we live in a democracy and majority rules.

We went to a bar/restaurant sort of thing where one of his friends works, making fun of sorority girls and looking cute in our hats (at some point during the night we all donned hats.)

A woman was selling roses to raise money for hurricane victims. She came to our table, trying to whore out her crappy looking flowers. She made eye contact with Billy and he replied, in all seriousness:

"Well, I would, but I don't have anyone special to give it to."

I don't know what strike that is, but it's a hell of a lot more than three, and he is out of here.

Now all I have to do is tell him.
Here lies a most ridiculous raw youth, indulging himself in the literary graces that he once vowed to eschew. Now he just rocks out.