Publisert: 30. oktober, 2014
One night in late summer, I found myself stranded without a ride in what I imagine to be the south end of Soho. I imagine this is where I was because I am not exactly sure, if I ever was, and the longer it has been since that night, the less sure I become. Nonetheless, on this particular night I had done a massive amount of what I assume to be cocaine, as I have always been partial to the uppers, and I am not particularly fond of the feeling of fake congeniality imparted by the club drugs that every tween seems to be so fond of these days. On that particular night, I was standing outside, and it had been raining rather heavily for quite some time, and I presume I was soaked clear through my clothes to the bone, although I do not remember the sensation of either being soaked or having bones, but I assume that I at least had the latter or else I would not have been standing outside in the rain to become soaked in the first place. As I was standing outside in the rain thinking to myself that I could sure use an umbrella right now, a vision of heaven entered my periphery. It was an umbrella, and it was held by the ugliest woman I had ever seen, in Soho or otherwise. But beggars cannot be choosers, and I was certainly squarely in the category of beggars at this particular place and time. I asked the poor wretch if I might share the umbrella with her, and she obliged, on the condition that I walk her to her residence, and upon arrival at our destination, I give her a kiss. As I said before, not being a fan of the lascivious drugs of youth, I was not interested in such romantic endeavors, but it was still coming down like God had just finished happy hour, and I did not have anything left to do that evening, that I was aware of, so I thought I would see where the night would take me.
The sights and sounds of Soho were overwhelming in my presently intoxicated state, and the more we walked, the more interesting my companion became. I started to listen to her, and I started to see her for who she really was, and not just for her, admittedly terrifying, exterior. I also enjoyed the way that people would go out of their way to walk around us when they saw us coming down the sidewalk, presumably frightened off by my compatriot's ghastly visage. Unfortunately, as amusing as all of this was in my drug-addled state, it was getting later, or perhaps earlier, as the sun seemed to have been coming up or just going down, and I was really in no position to say, given my current state, and we were moving into a strange place where the ground seemed devoid of covering and the trees devoid of leaves. The cement seemed to have all but disappeared at this point, and the only remaining facet of the civilization from which we had departed were oppressive wrought-iron fences that looked to be decades, if not centuries, old.
As I was about to turn and ask my new acquaintance how much further it was to her residence, she advised me that we had arrived. Her home appeared to be more a gargantuan tomb than any sort of abode I had ever encountered, but in my present state I was not really in the mood to question, and I did not particularly care where she lived, not even knowing her name at this point, and besides, there appeared to be some other rather grotesque individuals milling about, and I would really rather just leave than start suggesting real estate options to her. Since we had reached her dwelling, it was time for me to depart, but not before, she reminded me, my bestowing of a kiss upon what I can only assume she referred to as her face, as I saw no other part of her form that could pass as such, even being that the thing that was no doubt her face barely did. As I leaned in to give her a kiss, my hand brushed against the front of her slacks, and I felt a distinct, familiar bulge. It was at that moment that I realized that she was he, and this is exactly what playing The Void was like.