Recovery And Other Affairs - Part Two

Well, what happened with the last post was that a very supportive and friendly individual asked that The Duke might continue with his sordid relatings. The deal was, if anyone asked, then the story would continue, a bit like when Stephen King said he would finish The Plant if y'all throw him a dollar each. The Duke doesn't ask for the dollars, though, and plus, this one here is a true story what has even more horrors abounding within than Stephen Kings Scary Vegetation Story.

Part Two

The Many Jesuses

About four years ago, maybe three, The Duke starred in a short film, the name of which I won't reveal in order to protect those what might not wish to be associated with this debauchery.

This was a project a few students were working on, and when the piece was completed there was a screening of said filmic affair held at a local educational establishment. All sorts of people involved with the film would be there, include many parents and teaching types.

Of course, as the star of the whole shebang, I too was invited, along with my fiancée, The Duchess De Mondo.

I told The Duchess to meet me at the building at seven o'clock or so, since there was some things I had to clear up with the folks before the event, and really, it would all be terribly boring and I loved her too much to inflict such dull nonsense upon her.

Truth is, far as I recall she got there before I did.

Because on that evening I made the mistake of getting off the bus with half an hour to kill. What I could have done, and what I sometimes wish I had done, was to wander on up to the building, have a talk with a few of the people involved, and make myself comfortable.

What I did instead was that I walked to the bar.

Because really, there'd be no point going up this early. Sheesh, what would I do up there anyway?

I had half an hour to kill, and I'm fairly sure I didn't linger in the bar for much longer than those thirty minutes or so. Regardless of the short time allocated to my visit, I left the establishment practically comatose.

And there was The Duchess, waiting for me, arms out for to hug my shambling form. And the really bizarre and totally incomprehensible thing is that I loved The Duchess more than anything. Still do. And I really didn't want her to see me in the states I knew I was going to end up in, the minute I sat down at that table and began folding back the edges of a beer-mat.

I don't remember a great deal about the screening in question, other than being escorted out every ten or fifteen minutes for "chats", which really meant they were trying to convince me to go home, for Gods sakes, and stop embarrassing myself.

I didn't though. Instead I headed off down the street to yet another bar, to drink yet more pints and shots and such, and then things went a bit black for quite a while.

Next thing I know, there are people sitting on me in my front garden, trying to keep me from scaling a wall in order to climb through an open window. My mother appeared in the driveway shortly afterwards.

Article Author: Duke De Mondo

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