We only know them by their voices, but we've named them there's Puker, the Philosopher and Daisy. Twice during the fall Puker has gotten really sick over the balcony in long, extended vomiting sessions, once with the Philosopher sitting with him and nonstop wondering if people on other stars were looking at them.
Anyway, last week at 3:30 in the morning I'm jolted awake by Puker screaming: "MY HEAD! MY HEAD! MY F@#$ING HEAD!" and then this horrible cry like he'd been stabbed. I shot bolt upright in bed.
"What! What's wrong!" says the Philosopher.
"My head!" screams Puker, "My head! I saw the future!"
"I'm psychic! I've been psychic ever since I was a little kid!" Clouds of cigarette smoke drift into the bedroom.
"Oh my God!" says the Philosopher.
"Sometimes I see the future! And it hurts! It hurts so bad! Aaaaagh! Aaaaagh! I'm seeing the future!" (they're both really drunk.)
"Oh my God!" says the Philosopher again.
"Aaaaaaaagh!" wails Puker as another vision of tomorrow tears through his skull, "I KNOW HOW YOU'RE GOING TO DIE!"
At this point I've whipped out my phone and I'm trying to record this gem but I'm so sleep starved I can't figure out how to make the recorder work.
Instead of asking how he dies the Philosopher says "Do you ever wonder about people who are suffering? Like, we're very comfortable, we have a house and sh!t and there are some people who don't have a place to sleep."
"I can't unsee the future!" Puker wails, "It's a curse!" obviously he wants to talk about his magic powers but he can't hook the Philosopher. He flings his cigarette in an arc into the back yard and goes back inside. The Philosopher drops a beer can after it and follows him back in.
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