First Bomb

We are now White Voiding. How’s it going? I want to impress upon you today how I felt when I first used amphetamines. I’ve got a little testimony from someone here, whose experience is better than mine. His name is Jonah. Jonah, take it away:

“It was a Friday night. We were all gathered around at my best mate’s uncle’s flat. It was the go-to place before we went out for the night. There were drinks flowing, friends in place, a few of us were even arsing about pretending we could uphold a game of poker. We were sipping our first lagers of the night, as it had been a long week in college, immersed in Dickens and spreadsheets. Now was the time when we could cast our wings far out wide, and make something of the weekend. It was freedom, it was privilege; it was exemption from staying at home with the pops. Wow. What a time to be excelled in youth; alive, fresh, daring, foolhardy, gallant and gutsy. We were immortal, and confident at playing the game of life. We were conquerors.”

HOW WAS THE FIRST DROP, JONAH?

“Mark, the uncle, supplied it. A £5 bomb. It nestled in the psyche like a darling, like a rare gem. Before we knew it we were out of the flat and walking to a party or do or something, anything that was going. It was a mission, through the woods and shit, off the beaten track, but we were ‘coming up’, clutching a four pack of beers, supping Oranjeboom and smoking red Embassy like they were going out of fashion. I saw a bat and started nearly tripping off on one about it away from my head – wowsers, wildlife off speed! Our destination felt like miles and miles away but it was all about the journey. We were walking like Watchmen on Ritalin, like the Avengers on Columbian marching powder. There was an upheaval of the physiological system going on, our brains were feeling levels of special chemicals they had never experienced before; it was radical.”

AND THE DESTINATION, WHEN YOU ARRIVED?

“I met a girl. She was fat but horny. She’d swallowed a batch of ket and turned to stone. I’ve seen more animation in one of those heads from Easter Island. She couldn’t move a muscle. One of her friends filled a saucepan full up with water with every intention of splashing it over her boat race (face), but I stopped her, saying she would get all her clothes wet. Just let her be. Then I could sneak in then you see and start sucking at her nice little nipples. I cleared the room for this purpose, buzzing off my tits. The cellulite on her hamstrings was turning me on, and her adornments, like the ear rings and spangles and chains. I was hard as a house in my kecks. I’d never been so excited. It was like I’d just learned where my loins where and what they were on about. The fact that she was docile got me rock. She was like a doll for the taking, with no chit-chat back. A deaf mute. I’ve never been one for vocal women in bed. They sound like f*ck-wits when they’re orgasming, if you ask me, a bit stupid and doolally like. Just lie back like a sack of potatoes and leave it to me, I say. Until I go spassy-legged and blow my beans right the way up your c*nt.

DID YOU CRUSH HER PUSSY?

“No, because we were disturbed. This nutter welding a hockey stick walked in from nowhere eating glass. The dude had taken a bite out of a tumbler, and was chewing on the fragments. Jaws from James Bond had nothing on him. I couldn’t believe his powers. It woke the girl made from stone up out of her trance, and she started ringing ambulances because his lip was bleeding. That was my first outing into the amphetamine world. A girl made of stone and a man eating glass.”

THANKS JONAH