Date: Tue, 01 Dec 2015 04:55:39 +0000
From: Chezdon <chezdon1997@gmail.com>
Subject: Innocence Waning Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Although my senses were noticeably dull, the feeling of water in my nose
and the taste of gastric acid in my mouth inconveniently merging with the
horrific sounds that Bryce was now making as he paid his respects to great
and soiled porcelain throne made for an awkward sense of being after
realising that I had been sleeping in a shower stall with the water flowing
for some time. Evidenced by the wrinkled skin on my fingers and my toes, I
wonder how long I have been passed out with the water flowing on my
excruciatingly hot body. Without much concern for modesty, I turn off the
flow of water and exit the stall. Emerging from my glass sarcophagus, I
retrieve a towel whilst my friend remains on his knees making noises that
would intimidate wild beasts running from the gates of hell as he struggles
to return his former indulgences into the grateful toilet.

After drying my sensitive skin and wrapping the red towel around my waist,
I discover my electronic toothbrush and apply some Colgate toothpaste and
start the process of vanquishing the awful taste from my mouth. The
whirring sound of my dental assistant drowns out the moans and spitting
sounds that Bryce continues to make. I kick the bath mat aside so I can
stand on the tiles and feel even a brief sense of cold, I notice dried
purple vomit and vaguely recall Jayden's naked body as he struggled to take
the same spot that Bryce is now occupies and remember why the left side of
my body hurts so badly. Gazing into my bloodshot green eyes as I
methodically take long breaths and attempt to reconcile the current state
of my reality through my nose; my nasal passage being amazing clear for a
change, which I then attribute to the illicit drugs. This is the only
positive that I can find given my body is in a world of hurt. Memories
begin to reveal themselves selectively and after getting my bearings and
placing the toothbrush back on its lonely docking station is only when I
notice that Bryce has a black swastika haphazardly drawn on his naked
back. I vaguely recall thinking it would be funny if Austin vandalised his
skin after my friend passed out on my bedroom floor however oddly given how
shocking I feel, the humour is now lost.

Staggering out into my bedroom and leaving not only my towel but my modesty
on the floor I feel the softness of the carpet comforting my feet and
notice Austin sleeping on my bed. I immediately remember how he felt as I
caressed his warm body without him knowing. How he smelled and tasted
before I had to retreat to the bathroom earlier excites my senses and
symbiotically gets my heart racing faster. Vexed, I then see Jayden
sleeping on the floor on the other side of the bed, discarded like a pair
of boxer briefs that I wore sometime during the past week and upon making
the association, rush to put them on. At some point in the night, Jayden
managed to find his skinny shorts and get minimally dressed despite his
stupor so I am left only with the memories of his naked body as I do my
absolute best to dress mine. Imagery from both the debaucherous day and
night take a distant last place in my queue of priorities as I stumble back
to my side of the bed and fall back with enough force on to the mattress to
wake up Austin.

"What the hell?" Austin sits up and rubs his eyes before he stretches his
arms over his head, all the while looking forward fixated at the
television. At some point in the morning the channel was changed from the
public broadcaster to mainstream Channel Seven and 'Weekend Sunrise' was
screening so it must be early morning. The faux enthusiasm of the hosts
Andrew O'Keefe and Monique Wright make me want to close my eyes in
desperation and go back to sleep for a month however the hair in Austin's
armpit catches my gaze as he makes a prolonged morning stretch. Bryce makes
another guttural sound from the bathroom which sums up what I think about
'Weekend Sunrise' but I keep focus on his right armpit despite the sound
effects. I reminisce about feeling his pubic hair and his flaccid cock as
he slept and then realise that no matter how horrible I may feel, the sight
of his armpit hair now improves my mood, so much that I feel an erection
starting to take form.

Despite feeling like I am on fire, I take refuge under the sheet, partially
out of modesty but knowing that my member is stirring makes for an easy
decision. "What a night." Such a simple sentence is followed by silence,
only broken as Austin's arms collapse at his side on the bed. "How are you
feeling?"

"Oh mate, certainly not as bad as him." Austin turns his head towards the
right and the open bathroom door where Bryce seems to be frozen in time
praying at what could be confused as the alter of life. The sounds of
coughing, spitting and moaning along with Jayden's snoring, seemingly made
even more obnoxiously louder as his mouth is gaping wide, makes me think of
the last time I visited a zoo with my father and Mel.

"Jesus Christ mate. Who needs the Melbourne Zoo when you have these two
beasts to stare at?" I try to make sense of the moment to figure out what
to do next by injecting some humour which either is lost on Austin, or just
isn't considered funny given his state of consciousness. Although my body
feels like it has been hit by a train, my penis is painfully erect and
whilst Austin takes notice of Bryce and Jayden emulating animal sounds, I
think of what shoving various parts of my body into his mouth would feel
like. I would start with my tongue.

Austin gets out of my bed with a groan and after a few minutes of sorting
through clothes on the floor, predominantly belonging to me, he finds his
trousers and removes the phone from the back pocket, which gives me time to
admire his hairless white skin and brown eyes as he takes an active
interest in whatever messages he missed whilst scratching his left
buttock. I have never been this horny before and thoughts of putting my
hard cock inside Austin's arse, fuelled by him innocently scratching his
butt make me realise that I must still be affected by some drug as my
animalistic lust would mimic anything lurid currently going on behind the
scenes at Melbourne Zoo. "I've got to go, my mother is pissed!" These are
the only words that I paid attention to as I lay in my bed and watch Austin
put his soiled and discarded clothes back on and feel sombre that the show
has to end. "At least I sent her a text in my drunken stupor saying I was
staying here as I can just imagine her calling the cops again thinking that
I have been stolen."

"Again? Stolen?"

"Yeah, a long story for another day." Austin puts the oversized DC silver
shoes on his feet and swipes the beanie that was resting on the speaker
next to my television and rolls it onto his head, completely covering his
blond hair in the process. "Gotta zip. Cya mate."

Quoting the final words of one of our many recently deposed Prime
Ministers, Austin dashes out of my bedroom and closes the door. A few
seconds later I hear some banter being exchanged between him and Mel who
always seems to be up and about very early in the morning. Without getting
out of bed and strategically managing to stay under the sheet, I slither
out far enough so that I can grab my skinny jeans off the floor, with the
hope of locating my phone. Not finding it, I try to get comfortable again
and revert to watching some fool talk about their 'viral' YouTube video on
'Weekend Sunrise' as I will my erection to stand down from boredom. Despite
my friends are in varied states of consciousness, I still do not want to
walk around with a boner let alone have a sneaky wank even though I could
use the pile of dirty clothes to clean up any mess that I make. The
highlights of the footy and then the English Premier League on Channel
Seven settle both me and my manhood after some minutes pass which then
encourages me to get back out of bed and take the role of Captain Cook and
go exploring for my phone.

After putting on a hoodie that had been resting in a heap on my floor for
quite some time, I emerge from what now what seems to be quite a foul
smelling bedroom and into the sanity and order of the dwelling. Never let
it be said that four teenage boys after a night of partying will leave an
enclosed room smelling like the Royal Botanical Gardens and with the
introduction of fresh and clean smelling air, I feel a renewed sense of
calm as I walk around the unit, devoid of any evidence that 'good times'
were had the previous day as Mel was apparently up at the crack of dawn
tidying up the residence. There are no empty bottles in the kitchen, simply
a note on the counter next to my phone. I make a noticeable sigh when I
first see the shattered screen of my Galaxy and hope that it will turn on
when I plug it in. The note suggests that I take the last remaining
'Berocca' tablets that were left behind for me in some water as the
combination of vitamin B and C, along with some hopefully very cold and
refreshing fluids will aid my recovery according to Mel.

Realising that Bryce needs vitamins and hydration much more than me, I take
two bottles of San Pellegrino from the refrigerator, the pills and my phone
and return to my bedroom, only to be greeted by a foul smell and beastly
noises once again. I find Bryce still praying in front of the toilet bowl
but snoring and using the toilet seat as a pillow.

It takes the better part of a minute to rouse Bryce from consciousness
after returning to my room. Gentle shaking, reassuring words and massaging
his shoulders I find not to be as effective as pouring some sparking water
on his head and slapping a segment of the swastika on his back. Back in the
land of the living, Bryce props himself up against the wall and sits like a
lemur staring at me possessed and after a noticeable pause where I could
figure out from afar what was happening on 'Weekend Sunrise', he finally
speaks. "Fuck man, I feel like shit!"

"Yeah, full on night. Here!" I hand Bryce a glass bottle of water and the
two orange vitamin pills. "Here are some Berocca tablets courtesy of Mel,
take them."

Bryce breaks up the pills and puts them into the water. I didn't know that
you were supposed to ingest them in such a manner and wonder what would
have happened if I just swallowed them whole earlier in the kitchen. He
drinks the 750ml of water in what could be a world record time, and then
gets to his feet. "What happened last night? Where is my shirt?" He takes
his phone out of his pocket and then swears under his breath because it is
out of power which reminds me that I need to charge mine. "You don't have
an iPhone charger do you?"

"Sorry mate, no, this is an Android house." An empty laugh follows which
doesn't improve Bryce's mood. "It would seem there are some clothes in the
tumble dry. Mel left a note earlier as it seems some clothes were 'soiled'
after our boozing last night."

"Goddamn, I hope nobody spewed on me as I remember jack-shit." I follow
Bryce from my bathroom, past Jayden who is still sleeping on the floor and
out into the unit. Assuming he wants to find the laundry room, I take the
lead and with the worst case of timing in the world, we pass my father.

"I hope your hangover is worth it today boys." My father declares as soon
as he sees us and sounds a bit amused thankfully. "If you are going to draw
a swastika on someone's back, at least draw it properly. The arms are going
the wrong way."

Bryce either ignores the kind advice from my father or just doesn't have
any clue what his statement meant and after being escorted to the laundry
room, decides to sort through the clean dry clothes and find his
shirt. Free of stains or damage, Bryce puts it on. "Thank Mel for me, but
dude, I really need to borrow a phone. My parents are going to kill me!"

The look of terror on Bryce's face subsides after my father hands him his
mobile phone and Bryce makes a call. He must have realised at some point
during the previous evening that he sent a text to his mother saying he was
staying over. "Yeah, I will be home soon" followed by "thank you Daniel for
the hospitality" words which no doubt are insisted to be conveyed by
Bryce's mother.

After ending the call, Bryce bids us to fare well and states all he wants
to do is go back to bed. I suggest that another bottle of wine can be
opened to go with some eggs and a look of hate combined with nausea
overtakes him. At first I think he is going to throw up in the sink in the
laundry room, however he regains his composure and toddles off like an old
man who looks like he had been bedridden for months. The door slams just as
I am revived into a state of new awareness after looking at the clock on
the wall.

Briskly walking into the den of discontent which I would normally call my
bedroom I pause to look at the sleeping animal on the floor. I ponder how a
bedroom can smell so rank. Red wine, cocaine, spew, urine, shit and
everything else that managed to escape consciousness finalises the
quadratic equation and it is only now that I know that I must escape this
den of inequity and get to Westgate Park before my 10:30 AM destiny with
the man from my dream. The face of clock is now staring at me, encouraging
me to leave. With the sound of snoring and a sense of obligation are cast
aside, I pull on my black skinny jeans from the 'good times' enjoyed the
previous day and attempt to make myself look presentable before coming to
the realisation that my sexuality has been constrained for sixteen years
and has come to a pinnacle of sorts. I am now facing the impatient stare of
the clock and have a motivation to find not only my suitor from my dream,
but also what it seems to be my destiny.

With a new sense of purpose, before pausing and watching my best friend
take a breath, snore, gargle and gasp on my carpet, I step around him and
exit not only from the smell of my putrid bedroom but the security of my
apartment just as quietly as I resurrected myself from the slab only an
hour ago. Needing, but wanting to get to Westgate Park is first encumbered
by the sun as I leave the high-rise in Southbank and realise that walking
to the tram stop, let alone running anywhere would be a fool's errand that
would be met by sniffing concrete. It is then I realise that I left my
phone charging in my room and cannot ring Uber to get transport to the Park
and in desperation, use the little energy that I have and jog to the
closest tram stop. Not being fussed that I left my 'Myki' public transport
card in my wallet at home, I board the tram at Clarendon Street illegally
and attempt to relax on the pedestrian but thoughtfully designed seat but
cannot seem to get focus as I wipe the sweat from my brow. Thoughts of the
previous night; drinking wine, movies, conversation and being circumspect
about everything that I heard, witnessed, touched and tasted becomes a
priority to interpret. As the tram makes a 'dinging' sound down the line
and I lose myself in the moment; lost in the virtual mayhem of memories,
but also the analysis that comes with a group of teenagers raising hell
whilst having a sense of security, I realise that I am on the cusp of
achieving instantaneous gratification by what I will find in the toilet at
Westgate Park which will be something new and much more intriguing. I seem
to have a new self-awareness with boundaries that cannot be discerned
regardless of what direction the sun is sitting. Despite the positive
interpretation of the surrounds and the efficient delivery of my warm body
to Beacon Cove, I am stirred into an even more of a heightened sense of
reality when the tram comes to a halt and the conductor announces that it
is the end of the line.

Walking outside into the sunshine reminds me of not only my dream earlier
but also why I love Melbourne. 'Four Seasons in One Day' is not just a song
crooned by 'Crowded House', but it is a daily anthem that plays literally
when living in the so-called 'best city in the World'. At first the sun
once again fries my neck and then five minutes later the rain cools it as
it doesn't take long for the clouds to roll in and cry on me. It is all
incidental as being hell-bent to get to my 10:30 AM appointment either via
choice or via chance remains my priority. Not having the strength to run, I
walk quickly from Beacon Cove and then past Sandridge Beach only to find
the last stretch of desolation and pollution billowing trucks along with
the rubbish strewn on the side of Williamstown Road so utterly frustrating,
ugly and monotonous.

With common sense abandoned in my room at home, I eagerly follow the
winding dirt path into Westgate Park and traverse it under a small
ornamental bridge and make my way into the clearing, finally taking a
breath like a Jedi would. The lone structure at the end of the path, known
legally as being a place of relief for the public is within spitting
distance however the Victoria State Police are being vigilant in securing
the area so that the public will remain safe. I remain oddly on alert for
sinister forces not being able to comprehend what initially is happening as
I watch the police escort a civilian out of the public toilet and back
through the clearing and to their awaiting undercover car. Having seen a
plethora of gentlemen languishing in their motorcars upon entering the
public space again, they now decide that their company is no longer
welcome. Ignitions are ignited in unison and I realise despite the legacy
of alcohol and drugs in my system that I dodged a bullet and look back
toward the clouds over the Melbourne skyline and feel exhausted.


*****

chezdon1997@gmail.com