She, that short, chubby, weird girl with bad hair, led me back to her house, which was no more than a block away, to 'feed the snake'.
Honestly, I thought she was just trying to get laid at the time, and maybe she was.
But she did take me to her kitchen first, to grab a frozen mouse out of her freezer.
And she did microwave a frozen mouse for four minutes, before dipping it into luke-warm tap-water, because 'Voldemort would've wanted it this way'.
So silly, so stupid, so caring for baby-sitting a friend's red-tailed boa snek.
We shared a cigarette while she dangled the warm mouse in the snek's terrarium, and watched him swallow it whole.
And we both took puffs, as the rodent made its' way down the sneks throat.
Welcome.
Recline on one of our couches, upholstered in the finest silk we could have, imported from the Orient.
Take your pipe, filled with quality Afghan Poppy, and imbibe, while you listen to our house poets take you to transcendent realms with their words.
Should you feel so bold, feel free to pen a poem, or short story here, while you are under the beautiful duress of the midnight's oil.
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