Dr. W. A. Frost's Ides of Revolution

  It was a dark and stormy night… Nah, I’m fuckin with ya. It was a pretty clear night, actually. A Friday night to be specific, and after a long couple of hours in my old office, I have to say, it was a fuck shit day. All in all, after doing a solid 12 hours behind my computer screen under the dim light of a flickering fluorescent bulb, I’d felt as if I had earned a drink or two. Every now and again I’d go out with a few work friends to grab a Vodka Soda or two, but ever since we’d moved office spaces across town, our watering hole was a little too far out of the way. I found myself going out alone that particular evening, when I came across the Raw Hide. The moment I walked through the door into the bar, dimly lit with a scarlet red light, I knew that this wouldn’t be the same experience I’d been used to. The cement floors were dirty and littered with wet napkins and questionable puddles, the wallpaper was literally peeling off of the walls, the bartender was wearing only a leather v

  I plopped down on my couch, fuckin’ exhausted. I’d been on the halfpipe for a solid seven hours, and there was about another hour and a half of bathroom orgies… So you can imagine, I was beat. Lighting up the blunt I’d left out, I toked mindlessly. Ready for a night of R&R. I’d just started to lift up my arm to get a whiff of my pits, a constant joy since I’d… evolved, and the tangy stink had nearly tickled the hairs in my nose before a loud crash outside my window interrupted me. I’ll let you know this about me: NO ONE interrupts ‘me time,’ especially when I’m takin’ in my au naturale poppers. Jumping off the couch I threw the door open to my balcony, looking at the street below.  The street was dark, lit dimly by gaslamps. Yet, just barely within my line of sight, I saw one of the neighborhood beggar guys named Blair. He would come and skateboard around the neighborhood about a few times per week, I’d given him spare change on my way up to the apartment. A nice kid, really, if