by Cassandra Troyan
I was 16. It was around midnight and I had just gotten off work from my job at Signature's Bar & Grille in Gahanna, Ohio. I hadn't slept for several days. I think I remember making a lot of money on that shift. It was some jazz and blues festival so many people wanted to drink beer and eat hot wings. The event's mascot was a furry green frog who kept walking around the bar poking all the children and dancing strangely. The children were not pleased. The shift before that one I had to leave early because I accidentally took ecstasy and wasn't able to speak and properly hold my limbs so every plate of drinks I carried came smashing to the ground. I told my boss I was feeling weak. But tonight I was feeling ok.
After my shift I was always covered in a very particular sheen of smoke, beer and chicken grease. By my last cigarette I would gleam in my stench. Chuck picked me up there, me gleaming on the corner. No time to stop at home. We went to some house in some suburb where some person's mother had an impressive collection of Longaberger baskets. The boy's mother had them insured for thousands of dollars. Familial investment, she had said.
I had barely sat down, barely had the first drink in my hand, my cigarette adding to the house full of congealing smokes when someone was already thrusting on top of me. It was a rhythmically fluid lap dance. Each movement was synced perfectly with the bass. He was mouthing the lyrics.
Suckin' on my titties like you wanted me,
Callin me, all the time like blondie
Check out my chrissy behind
It's fine all of the time
Like sex on the beaches,
What else is in the teaches of peaches? huh? what?
He had a thick shock of orange-red chest fur.
Suckin' on my titties like you wanted me,
Callin me, all the time like blondie
Check out my chrissy behind
It's fine all of the time
What else is in the teaches of peaches?
Like sex on the beaches. huh? what?
He had strong teeth that looked as though they would sink into my eyes.
huh? what? right. uhh.
huh? what? right. uhh.
huh? what? right. uhh.
And it just kept going. I was still confused, but definitely persuaded. I was turned on. There was much essential rubbing going on.
SIS IUD, stay in school coz it's the best.
IUD SIS, stay in school coz it's the best.
IUD SIS, stay in school coz it's the best.
IUD SIS, stay in school coz it's the best.
I was mesmerized, but suddenly the rest of the scene in the house became more apparent.
Suckin' on my titties like you wanted me,
Callin me, all the time like blondie
Check out my chrissy behind
It's fine all of the time.
Like sex on the beaches.
What else is in the teaches of peaches? huh? what?
Half naked boys were flinging themselves from the basement and flopping wildly on the ground, their dicks gently bouncing.
Fuck the pain away. Fuck the pain away.
Fuck the pain away. Fuck the pain away.
They were laughing at their entanglement. I think the lap dance had abruptly ended as the boy performing it got up from the couch to join the cluster. The same song continued and I felt it was moving me towards the basement.
Fuck the pain away. Fuck the pain away.
Fuck the pain away. Fuck the pain away.
On my way there, someone asked to see my tits. I complied and took off my shirt.
They were women. I leaned up against the kitchen counter. There was one on each side. They asked if I was staying the night. I said why not.
Fuck the pain away. Fuck the pain away.
Fuck the pain away. Fuck the pain away.
They said they could make some arrangements. We were walking towards the basement. I had another drink in my hand. They were putting pills in my mouth. They told me to swallow.
Fuck the pain away. Fuck the pain away.
Fuck the pain away. Fuck the pain away.
Fuck the pain away. Fuck the pain away.
Once again I complied. Different music was playing in the basement. It was deeper and loud to the point where it was barely even music. It was one giant quivering. It ached and softly rolled. How old are you? one of them asked, I said shhhh, and took off her pants. I knew they were probably at least 10 years older than me. The space was very moist and round. Everything was swollen. Feelings had no definitions, only heaviness, sudden light, sweat, a tingle. A hot flash coiled. A certain brightness, a certain dimness. I blacked out.
When I came to I was walking up the stairs with a vegan orange creamsicle in one hand and a handle of Jack Daniels in the other, and said what the fuck? as I stumbled and attempted to keep balance on my newly conscious legs. It was approximately 7AM.
I walked into a bedroom. There was a king-sized bed with oak posts and a canopy and at least 9 bodies strewn across it. My friend Chuck was one of them. He lifted his head. Are you hungry? I asked, and he nodded yes. I nudged a body over on the bed and sat down next to him and passed him the creamsicle. We shared it in silence.
Cassandra Troyan is an artist and writer born and raised in Columbus, Ohio. She is an MFA candidate at the University of Chicago for Visual Arts. She has a chapbook written with her brother Cody Troyan, entitled, Big Bill and the Lonely Nation. She curates the reading and performance series EAR EATER in Chicago, IL and her work is currently or forthcoming in Bluestem, decomP, Everyday Genius, H_NGM_N, JMWW, New Wave Vomit, Pop Serial, and The Scrambler among other places. She eats several grapefruits a day and currently spends most of her time writing or making art in a mansion that used to hold the doomsday clock.