“You can’t go in there; they’re making statistics” he winked.
I had been at what seemed to be an outdoor sports arena where alcohol was served and next thing I know I was in somebody’s apartment. I don’t know how the heck I got in here. There referred to an adjoining room where my ex and “she” were presumed to be making love. It’s an odd expression, certainly, but struck me as funny later for it’s gross connotations. He interrupted me as someone darkened his front door. You’re his “knob” I realized and said aloud to him then, and by his meaning my Ex. I think he laughed. I realized later I had meant “plug”, (slang for drug-dealer) but seeing as how I am drug-free, my mistake is, understandable, isn’t it? And it occurs to me it’s a fairly recent adoption , regardless. I am pretty sure my ex is also now drug-free due to court order, so the connection I drew was odd, but no matter. Still, I had a laugh later at the sexual innuendo my facile brain had conjured up.
I stole a better look at the knob, slyly. He was white, perhaps of middle eastern descent, but he had black grease paint on the one side of his face and nose. It didn’t look out of place, but I thought to myself he has been “clubbing” and is gay. I don’t know what planet a guy would adorn himself so for clubbing, but the association was there. That he was gay, I guess I felt less threatened, or at least sure he would not steal my already attached Ex from me. He said he wanted to show me something and on laptop screen, which he suddenly manifested, there lay plain a list of “three reasons” why my Ex would return. This was getting interesting.
Hold on, I had said I need to look at that more closely.
—And then I awakened. (Written By Med)
