by ADAM BROCKMAN
IXX_3976 by Leon Brocard | Flickr
The taste of the soap. Brendan waiting outside the bathroom thinking I was washing my hands. Spitting the soap out and rinsing my mouth. Listening to my name being called by the karaoke DJ (mispronounced – probably because I spelled it wrong on the sign-up sheet). Telling Brendan I’m fine and grabbing the mic and rapping the Kanye song. Grinding up against the brunette during the second chorus. Brendan laughing his ass off and giving me a thumbs up.
Reaching the end of the parking lot and puking in the bushes. Back inside the bar with another round. Brendan telling me to buy the brunette a drink. Debating the pros and cons for two hours. Brendan writing what’s the worst that could happen on a napkin.
Asking the bartender to put the brunette’s next drink on my tab. Closing my eyes when she finally approached the bar. The already godawful country song belted half a step flat by some drunken idiot.
Advice for Submitting to Literary Magazines
in the Coming Totalitarian Dystopia
Daniel Paul, McSweeney's
Summer Reading / Santi Garcia- Flickr
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