I remember dancing in this crazy night club in Milan with two gorgeous girls. I don’t have to mention that I was drunk as $&^#, so of course I gravitated to them like a moth flying towards two sexy, voluptuous light bulbs. Let’s call the blonde girl, Claire. She had another name of course, but I would never admit that I don’t remember a girl’s name. So the blonde one with the big sexy-lips is Claire. And the kinky one dressed in black is Dorothy.
Anyways, I don’t know when we decided to take things back to Claire’s house. If I am not mistaken, she had even more alcohol and fun waiting for me there. At least I think it was fun, considering I spent twenty minutes talking to a coat rack.
I woke up this morning lying naked on a surgeon table with a huge scar along my back, and a nagging feeling that something of mine was missing. As I stared at an I.V. hooked up to my arm, I suddenly realized two things: the big hairy hand that had grabbed my shoulder just before I blacked out, did not belong to Dorothy, and the $%&££%”%$& that put me in a chemically-induced coma, put me out for too long.
And I know what you all are thinking: “Oh my god, Simone! You spent the last few months as the sex slave of two hot chicks!” “No, stupid, have you been listening to anything he just said? He was drunk. He spent the last few months as a sex slave of two fat middle-aged Mongolian men in neon pink and yellow wigs.. and they harvested his organs!”
I am in a tent, it’s hot outside, and I have no idea where my pants are. I need to find a phone to call the Master of the Extraordinary. He will be worried.
- Simone La Cuercha