It was the day before Mary's wedding when I received the call. She appeared quite nervous and suggested we hang out and get totally wasted... one last blast so to speak. Her future husband was one of the local street kids, a Skateboard Punk that hung around Astor Place.
He was also considerably younger and far less adept at survival...
So we met up in Tomkins Square Park, bought a shit load of drugs and headed west toward MacDougal Street in Greenwich Village.
Contrary to popular belief, these bars were lame college hangouts. Not the sort of place for two seasoned East Village dopers bent on self-annihilation and debauchery.
I guess she chose the area because none of our mutual friends would be caught dead in these places and whatever happens there... stays there!
After cruising the street for a suitable establishment, she pointed to a door several steps below street level.
The room was dark and sparsely populated. There was trash and cigarette butts all about the floor while most of it's patrons were seated at the far end of the bar.
We ordered two beers with twin shots of tequila than sat in the nearest booth. Seconds later, she was at the juke box feeding bills to an insert. All at once, the room began to pulsate from the sound of frantic drum machines and the tortured cries of those in purgatory.
Hey man... they have Foetus and Neubauten on this thing! What were you expecting, the Beach Boys and Debby Boone? I downed my first shot and sat curiously for her return.
Initially, our conversation was chaotic and somewhat tangential. Patterns of thought began to fracture like delicate chards of fallen glass.
So what's up dude, she asked grinning? She was now in my face with her hand on my thigh. Thinking... one should never wear leather around Mary...
Not unless you want her sniffing at your armpits and crotch!
I began to get very distracted.
Come with me, she said... dragging my junked-out carcass across the room. I have to tell you a funny story about Sabertooth Willie. Is he a friend of Chainsaw, I asked inquisitively?
No... he's a gay gigolo gerbil, that's who... a FUCKING WHAT???
Ron, you know what they say about gerbils and gay men? People say a lot of stupid things about subjects that make them uncomfortable.
I thought that was an urban legend or a sexual delicacy reserved for the discriminating few?
No, it's true I think, at least this story is she replied. I've seen this guys' asshole and it's a mess!
At this point, the pub was relatively crowded. Those nearest us were hanging on every word.
How do you get a rodent up your butt to begin with, someone asked? You entice them with something sweet like a flavored syrup or honey, she responded.
The guy with the crinkly sphincter said that he doesn't feed Willie for a day. An hour before the ritual, he doses his water with X or sprinkles some on a potato chip. He then lubes his butt adding syrup to the mix.
You apply a little over and in your anus with a finger. The person then assumes a comfortable position while someone inserts the gerbil tube... the rest is up to the rodent.
Oh... and he also loans Willie out to like-minded friends!
I could see this crowd had mixed feelings on the subject of Gerbil Love and animal abuse. Expressions ranged from thoroughly amused to utter disbelief.
All the while, Mary danced and nodded her head in rhythm to the music. I knew she was full of shit... the story was just a ploy, her way of gaining complete attention and control...
Since the needs of the many far outweighed any justification for remaining intact, I made my way to the door. Where are you going she asked? I'm heading back east, I've had quite enough entertainment for the evening.
My girlfriend had warned me that Mary had a pattern of seducing her friend's boyfriends. I was also certain that she would be safe, as there were few that could outmaneuver her socially.
After all, my friend was a compellingly odd personality and a voracious cultural vampire.
It was rare to find someone with her resource for self-destruction and for the greater part... I was completely bored!
