• Picture includes actual chunk of the Viaduct.

I wrapped outward-facing duct tape around my limbs and torso and legs, trying to mimic the universal force of nature. Putting the duct tape on was a pain in the fucking ass. (Someone needs to invent double-sided duct tape.) Whenever I crossed my legs I stuck to myself. Whenever I got up out of a chair, I made loud unsticking noises. As the night progressed, I became less gravitational and more just sticky.

Items that stuck to me were: a bag of Tim’s Sour Cream & Onion Potato Chips, a knife, a leaf, one of those plastic tags gardeners use to mark the kinds of flowers, a bubble blower, a Grey Goose lid/stopper, and a Ronald McFondle/Billy the Fridge CD called The Clown & the Mountain given to me by Ronald McFondle himself. Items that didn’t stick to me: a sponge, a hardback NIV Pictorial Bible, a telephone pole, and a chunk of the Viaduct.

The night routed itself through Cha Cha and into a booth with a guy that looked exactly fucking like Kid Rock. He wasn’t wearing a costume, he just looked exactly fucking like Kid Rock. He was making out with a girl that had just gotten a divorce. Occasionally, I offered people the sour cream & onion potato chips that were stuck to me. Someone thought I was dressed as consumerism. Then it was to The Saint for tequila. I sat next to man at the bar, unstuck the Ronald McFondle CD from my left forearm, and gave it to him. He looked at it, and stuck it back on to me. I said, “But when is the next time gravity is going to give you a Ronald McFondle CD?”