A faint crackle of distant thunder came from somewhere in the
northwestern Wilderness. TG (pronounced teej)
leaned against the dorm seemingly not to notice. Taking one last drag off of
his hand-rolled Bugler cigarette, he pushed himself away from the building.
Fixing his gold-plated sunglasses with one hand, a pair said to have been given
to him by “the King” himself, he pinched out the tiny cherry with his other
hand. Without turning around, he threw the butt behind him, and popped his
collar just as it swished cleanly
into a nearby garbage can. The roller party later tonight actually had him kind
of excited, something that was rare for him anymore, but that was still a long
way away. Right now he had much more important business. If his source was
right, and she always was, the most interesting “fresh meat” he was ever going
to meet would be showing up nearby soon.
TG’s
mind wandered to his time as a freshman, recalling the acne, the glasses, and
the girls . . . he shivered recalling his deep, dark, unfortunate past. That
was many, many moons ago and he had buried that green boy a long time ago. The
man in the red velour suit had quite literately all the confidence in the
world. Maybe it was his overly long tenure in Professor Brewenstein’s oenology
class, maybe it was his short stint as a roadie for Jefferson Aeroplane, maybe
it was the girls . . . not that it mattered. As he stood facing the woods in
the direction of the thunder, a bewildered young man stumbled out of the woods.
Wearing overly tight jeans (no flair, hmm), strange kicks, and slight tendrils
of smoke coming from his hair, TG knew in an instant this was his “fresh meat.”
“Where
am I?” the newcomer asked. Then drooped to all fours, puking violently.
“That’s
right buddy, better out than in” TG comforted him. “Release the evil. ‘Beer
before liquor, never sicker.’ Didn’t you learn that as an undergrad?” As he
heaved, yet half nodded, TG knew then that this “meat” was definitely going to
be different.
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