"Oooh, baby, you set my soul on fire!", shouts the cocaine-addicted, soon-to-be-dead pseudo-rockstar. You can barely see him or his tight, brownish-red leather pants through all the smoke. If you're not careful, you'll probably trip on some face-down semi-dead junkie or the spilled whiskey or beer or vodka or, well.. you get the point. There are some long-haired girls wearing fake Indian dresses and fake Indian earings and fake Indian necklaces. They're smoking marijuana with their eyes closed, in a trance. I doubt anybody can enter a trance with all this noise. There's two homossexual couples having sex on the pool table. One of the girls constantly looks around the room. My guess is she's just doing this for show, but who cares? The keyboardist is pounding the keys with his forearm and elbow while the guitarist starts to punch his guitar around the pickups.
Right next to me, a black man and an asian girl are very close to dragging me into their sexual activities. I can tell by the way the girl's looking at me, then looking down at the man and laughing and looking back at me. At this point, I get up and blow the mist of smoke around me to see that one of the girls that were at the pool table is now sucking the singer's dick. He's moaning on the microphone and people are finding it "groovy". He starts to undress the girl and lay her down. They're going to fuck on the stage.
I go in the kitchen only to find out another couple having a "good time" on the kitchen table. I ask if any of them have a lighter. The girl tells me to check the back pocket of some jeans on the counter, next to the sink. There's nothing but lint. I rather not interrupt them again and just light a cigarette on the stove. When I walk out of the kitchen, Dana, the mother of the rock'n'roll idol asks me if I want to get a drink upstairs. In her room, she emphasizes. Now, I'm not one to lie to look cool or anything, but I inhaled some smoke, blew it sideways and asked "Have you got any Scotch?". "I've got everything, baby. Everything you can imagine" she says.
On our way upstairs, I see my ex-History teacher shooting heroin on the steps. I put my hand in my pocket and find a small bag of pot. I take it out and offer some to Dana, to which she replies "Oh, you're a bad boy. You make me so hot I could fuck you right here and now", while biting her lips to look sexy, I guess. We keep going untill we get to her room. The place looks like a palace. The bed is red and velvet. All the details are gold. She takes off her panties without taking off her skirt. I rolled a fat one and put out my cigarette by the bar. She's on her knees and hands on the bed and asking if I'm coming or what. I stand at the edge of the bed and get a rubber from my wallet. She asks what's taking so long and I tell her. Then she says "Oh, honey, don't worry about that. We can have a beautiful child and name it Rainbow or Happiness." There's no point in arguing with her. I say "Fine" but put the condom on anyway.
Twenty-five or thirty minutes later, after, according to her, she's cummed twice, her son comes in the room, saying "Mom, have you seen my stash of hash?". The red blanket's on the floor and we're both lying on the bed, naked. Rock'n'roll rebel here gets furious and gets a 12-gauge from behind the bar. I should get a little nervous, given the fact that the gun this kid is holding is probably bigger than him. I get out of the bed and try to look scared and anxious. I'm not, but only because I know that a wanna-be bad-ass like this will never shoot anybody. "Peace and Love, huh?", is what I'm thinking about saying. "Now, hold on, Derek, we don't want to do anything stupid, now do we? Come on, man, there's no need for this, man. Just put the gun down so nobody will get hurt, ok?" is what I actually say. "Who the fuck are you, asshole? And how the fuck do you know my name?" is what I get for an answer. At this distance, I bet anything in the world that I can get the shotgun out of this prick's hand and even punch him in the face. I'm not a fighter or anything, but this kid is more scared than I am. I say "What do you mean, how do I know your name, man? You're a legend. A God of Rock, man." He gets out of his macho-holding-a-gun pose and says "Tell you what, kiddo.. Kiss my dick and I won't kill you." I say "I'm not gay or anything, but I've always wanted to do that. Just put the gun down." He puts the gun on the bar and starts to unzip his pants. I punch him right in the middle of his stomach. He curls on the floor, holding onto himself like his guts were falling out. I pick him up and choke him just untill he goes unconscious. I have sex with his mother again, who, at this point, is already on a rocket to the fifth dimension. Then I pull Derek outside by his feet and write "I HATE NIGGERS" with a marker I found in the living room, on his chest and leave him naked on the porch of a house that has a sign, next to an American flag, that says "SLAVERY NO MORE". I got lucky. I'm really not violent or anything. It's just that sometimes I feel like doing weird stuff.

Espero que eu continue esse negócio.