DIRT: the grunge diaries (𝒱𝒾𝒸𝓉𝑜𝓇𝒾𝒶'𝓈 𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓈𝒾𝑜𝓃)

entry #53 - chain effect

the morning after
فيكتوريا

'Any idea where is Bessie?' I address Chrissie, who's sitting around the table, here at the breakfast buffet, together with me. I've bumped into pretty much everyone this morning, even the only one person I didn't want to see, aka Gerry... but Bessie. Miss Sex on Legs, one third of the Angels of Grunge, my one of two best friends, and Cuntrell plague victim number one.

I am honestly worried here. I haven't seen Bess since last night, when we were queuing up at the hotel reception to get the keys to our respective rooms. She disappeared into a room with Cuntrell, straight after Sean was done pretending to fuck him from behind, and I don't know what she's been up to since then. Cuntrell was around the lobby, not so long ago, and so was Layne. Day two of being on the road with Phellus in Chains, she's shagged half of the band multiple times, but none of her two phelluses of choice is with her right now. She is indeed still nowhere to be seen, definitely not fucking, and this is concerning. I just hope that she's still alive, and I can't help but pray she is. I don't fucking want to lose a friend... and my biggest fear, as of right now, is that someone will chime in with the groundbreaking piece of news that Bessie has just been found dead on the floor of Cuntrell's hotel room. With his crabs walking all over her carcass. Ew. That would be very rock n'roll, sure, but fuck rock n' roll. I don't want to mourn a bestie.

Reasonably, Bess related anxiety is killing me. Every minute we waste, not looking after the chronically ill girlie, we push Bessie closer to death. I'm sorry I couldn't look after her last night, but I had Sean on my trail nonstop, and I couldn't think about pretty much anything else but him. I'm looking forward to our arrival in Denver, so that I can finally drag Bessie's saucy, trooper ass to the clinic... and the doctors can tell us what her life expectancy is. I hope she doesn't die. I would never get myself back up after the loss of my best blonde friend. I would rather just learn that she's having Cuntrell's spawn. Scary, yes, a child lasts just as long as a chronic disease and we've widely talked this out yesterday ... but babies are cute ! HIV and Hepatitis C-untrell ain't.

'Probably... fucking Cantrell... ew'. Chrissie answers, and we both shudder at her words. We almost puke our hearts out when we notice that Cuntrell is no longer around, and hence, probably fucking Bess. Yes, we aren't big fans of the fact that our best friend keeps shagging Cuntrell at her any chance to. We always tell Bessie that fucking Gerry is dangerous. That he has pretty much each and every STD known to medicine, and that some of them don't even heal with the help of drugs. We try to get Bessie on the lookout, but she never seems to care. She wants Cuntrell no matter what's at stake, and she always gets him, no matter where and no matter when.

'Cuntrell! Squawk'. Cock Soup, my cockatiel, speaks from right above my head, nibbling the fabric of the Budweiser hat that I've borrowed from Sean, just because it matched my tomboy-ish outfit of today.
I slightly smile, because my bird is an ever so wise, ever so smart bird of words, but I'm still freaking out for Bessie. Reason why I sit my cockatiel on my lap, and I rub his tummy to rub my anxiety away.

Chrissie gulps out loud in her own saliva, probably thinking about how much courage would it take, for a reasonable woman to fuck a sexual plague infector like Cuntrell. I just shudder some more and feel a weird tingle in my stomach, an unmistakable sign that I'm grossed out by the very same, disturbing thought. Gerry's lack of appeal and abundance of crabs are two of the very few things Chrissie and I agree on. We are, I think, the only two women in all of Seattle who turned him down everytime he got flirty with us. Chrissie feels indifferent to him. I just flat out hate him, and everyone knows it. He hates me back, just as fiercely... and I wouldn't want to change our wonderful, angry and resentful relationship. I would sometimes like to kill him, because he's cursed my best friend for life and he acts like it's none of his business... but if I don't lay a hand on him, it's exclusively because it may as well get him going. He's a creep, a horny creep, and I want to avoid getting him going at all costs.