Part Bear, Part Boy. All Beast..

The red cup I hold vibrates against the brown of my skin and the yellow of my belly. I look down to my poking, bulbous stomach, I am getting fat. Skinny arms, poofy hair, legs, chest, eyes, lips, knees, I am the boy Frankenstein. All of my parts seem like there were stolen from the corpses of several different men, maybe even a woman or two. There is a girl with sandy brown hair dancing with her friends, she thinks I’m cute. There is another girl with some tall hipster following her around, she is beautiful and she shoots me an inviting smile, but tonight will not be our night. I haven’t the words tonight, I seldom do, but tonight I am dried out. A kid I know pats me on the back and shakes me, “Adam you look fucked up.” He is grinning waiting for me to say something funny.
“Sure am.” I tell him this, and he can smell the lie on me. His grin withdraws and so does he, into the jumping, neon crowd. I just want to sit down, sit with my drink, maybe pull someone into a conversation about bats or movies or hot girls. I wander to the bath room, there is a long line. Girls enter the bathroom in groups of 3, two dudes go in side together and everyone in line points and snickers. They didn’t look gay, and that’s what made it funny. A drunk girl strikes up conversation with me, we talk about how much fun the party is. She is cute and would probably give me her number, but I just want to sit down. The two non-homosexual fags exit the bathroom and I cut 5 people. Before I close the door I look back and them and give an empathetic shrug, I feel like a jerk, kinda. The wooden door of he shitter muffles the music, thank God. I look at myself in the mirror, I look as janky as ever. Bags round my eyes, the hovering light shows me my acne. I’m making a face that implies I’m bored or mad or unapproachable. Sometimes I hate my face, but then again sometimes I hate everything. I sit on the toilet and think about the vodka and red bull in the Solo cup, I drink the rest and throw the cup in the sir, it lands in the bath tub.
“Do I have to pee?” I speak to the shower curtain and ceiling fan and tooth paste. I take my wee-wee out and shake it like I’m trying to get money out of it. No pee pee. I spit in the toilet and watch my saliva circle the bowl like a shark. I wish I could transform into a shark, or anything. I think about how gnarly it would be to go in the bathroom and janky brown boy and emerge form the water closet a gigantic brown bear. I thought about how cool it would be if no one noticed, and I kept dancing and swaying and smiling at pretty girls. Party bear. Party animal. The door is being knocked on a dude tells me to hurry up and calls me a jackass. Party bear will not tolerate this. I flush the toilet and give myself one last glance in the mirror, vanity doesn’t suit someone as weird as me so I smile and rush out stepping on the guys foot purposely. I’m smiling on the dance floor. I’m smiling because the world, my slice of the world at least, isn’t terrible. I smile because they are contagious, I smile because I hope that my smile spreads like a forest fire. Forest fires affect bears, but not party bear. This place, this house is alive with something I don’t want to kill myself trying to explain. I’ve spent many nights jumping up and down to songs I don’t know and many morning hunched over toilets regretting each and every sin. Fuck, youth is weird. Sometimes, I’m ok, Sometime I aint. But tonight vibrates against my skin and inside my chest and around my hat. The girl I came here with smiles and winks at me, but I don’t care. Girls come and go and get lost in the stars. Fuck them, tonight will be about chasing this vibration. Not pussy, not even love.