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Flesh Suits and Doughnut Time:
My Adventures with Expensive Cocktails and Cheap Wine

By:  Hollie Stevens

It took a lot of booze and turbulence to get back to visiting Los Angeles. I’ve been redundant with telling my friends this tale and due to a failure with the hard drive on my computer (which has recently been fixed); I’m just now getting around to telling you the rest of my story.

It all went down on New Years Eve. It was 9pm and I was leaving my friends house in Korea town to go to an event at On The Rox on Sunset. I was supposed to do a performance there where I was to play some sort of zombie/metal female version of father time birthing a zombie baby new year but, I found out the night before that this venue didn’t have a burlesque license, which had nothing to do with my performance but, imitating a fetus coming out of my cunt was out of the question apparently. 

I was bummed about the situation, as well as those who arranged the performance but we were willing to make the most of it so I thought I might as well come out to the event and be supportive due to the fucked up circumstances.

So, at 9am, after watching a good hour of VH1’s countdown to greatest metal songs, I left my friends home (after a fantastic glass of two buck chuck) and made my way towards the subway to partake in the armature ritual of plying myself with booze for the start of the New Year. 

I make my way down the street towards the subway at a four way stop.  I notice that an old work truck is stopped and decides to make a left hand turn into where I’m walking.  I assumed that this truck could see me (I’m wearing all black but with the platform shoes and my blonde hair showing so, I assumed anyone could spot me) but I was wrong.  As soon as I realized that the truck wasn’t going to stop, I jumped back but it was too late.  The truck plowed into my left leg.  It knocked me on the ground but as soon as I realized I was ok, I got up and made my way to the sidewalk.  During this time, the truck pulled over to the right hand side of the street.  I assumed that asshole that hit me was a drunk driver (I had friends who started as early as 7pm that day) but instead, an old man hopped out of the truck.  “You almost gave me a hear attack!”  The old man says.  I’m thinking to myself, fuck you; you just hit me with your fucking truck!  He asks me over and over again if I’m all right.  I told him I was and not to worry about it (The last thing I wanted to do was make my way to a hospital on New Years Eve and miss out on my friends party while already well aware that I was alright).  However, he was still persistent.  “I’ll take you anywhere you want to go, where were you walking? I’ll take you there!”  Says the old dickhead.  I wasn’t feeling very confident in his driving skills since he just hit a pedestrian but, he was so persistent that I finally I told him that I was on my way to the subway.  “I’ll take you to the subway, anywhere you want to go.”  Says the old man “but first, I have to stop and get doughnuts.”  What a fucking cocksucker! I think to myself.  I immediately tell him that it’s all right and I’d rather walk to the subway.  Which I did. Immediately.

I show up at the Roxy about twenty minutes later, explain what just happened to my friends, then preceded to the bar.  $11.00 for a fucking rum and coke!  It should have included a rim job from an Asian baby with that price tag.  My friends from the artist group Art Core brought the New Year zombie baby with them and agreed that after what I’d just been through, (and since I was the father, or mother... Whatever you’d want to call it) that I should keep the little zombie.  We proceeded to drink throughout the night.  Once it was closing time, my friends dropped me back off in Korea town.  Next day I woke up in my clothes from the night before, hung-over, bruised, swollen ankle, and my New Year baby lying next to me.  Could be worse. 

I flew back to San Francisco later that day and told my friends in SF my experience with the old fuck that hit me.  I never really thought about it, but a lot of my friends were soon convinced that that man did see me, and hitting me was the only way to get me into his truck.  His objective: So he could stuff my crevasses with doughnuts and wear my flesh as a suit.  I don’t know what to believe. All I know is that I feel like I made the right choice in what most people would believe to be the wrong choice.  Booze isn’t always the answer, but sometimes... it certainly helps.  

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Hollie Stevens


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