Counting

Now it's September, they say. Oh, it's September already! That's what they said, and they don't seem to be pleased with that at all. I just kept smiling, all of it passed well over my head, it passed really quickly.

They understood anyhow, and told me September is a month. Aha! And that a month has thirty or so days. Aha! And there are twelve months in a year. Aha! All in all like a million days in a year. That was a great help to me. As I've learnt counting to three by now. A guy I met told me how to, in exchange for me blowing bubblegums wearing an outfit he gave me.

"so what?" I asked.

"then there's another year, then another, and then there's eighty of them and you die", they said.

That's like being discontinued. They told me. This left me crying my eyes out. I didn't like that. So I have only eighty of the million day years left dancing? How much is that? Will it be soon? Eighty has to be more than one two three, hasn't it? And a million? Also more than one two three. It must be. Maybe less than eighty.

That could be soon, couldn't it? And I haven't even been laid yet. (That's another way of saying "have not had sex".) Not even once.

I had been close to, though. Once again there had been the coloured balls. My thong was off. Or, rather, I went there without, not to mess things up again, thongs sticking an all that.

"can i put it in ur ass?" he asked. Just another guy I had met.

"do whatever you like", I said, eager to get going and have mysteries resolved.

"no exit only stuff then? bout ur ass eh?"

That I didn't understand. Shops in the mall have exits. I don't. I didn't even know I hade an ass, either. I still don't think I do. So I said he was welcome to put it (?) straight through my head, if he so liked. He didn't, but wanted the other thing. He would even give me Lindens for it afterwards, he said. A nice guy, this one. And then came the blackout...

I came to again on that empty beach, where I seem to go sometimes. Of course I went there. No guy. No pink and blue balls. Just me, and mysteries were still unresolved.

And now they tell me there is some kind of counting going on. One two three million eighty. Last waltz.