Whenever I am at an Asheville bowling alley late at night, I get the distinct feeling that I am going to be murdered or stabbed or both. Suddenly, every bowler has a dull evil look in his eye and closes in on me. It snaps into a zombie movie but instead of zombies, they are methheads. Asheville High School Alumni methhead zombies. They’re drunk, too, because the beer is cheap tonight and the bowling is cheap too. The meth, I don’t know, but it looks like there was plenty before it got gone.
They close in on me–why they chase, I don’t know…maybe I look like meth or–yes–I have money to buy it. Reserves are low. Don’t make eye contact…that spells certain death–oh yeah, and awkward too. Hey, I went to high school with that guy. Gee, he sure is good at bowling now. Wow. Oh shit! He’s a methhead zombie too. He’s seen me! He’s after me! Oh, just please don’t make me have to talk to him.
Justin. How’ve you been?
GIVE ME METH!! (sfx: flesh eating, etc.)
This one guy has a big hippy beard–why is he a bowling methhead? That one guy has a big scary beard, that’s why he’s bowling methhead. The manager has braces and a blank blank stare. Oh, and a goatee. Everyone has a goatee.
Ah ha! We’re out. But Jesus, this wound looks like it has rust in it. Tetanus is a fair price to pay, I’d say. Shouldn’t be needing to open my mouth without my meth-affected teeth. Oh yeah, I’m addicted now too, because that’s how methhead-bowling-zombie-movie logic works. But damn! Meth feels good!
C’mon, let’s go back in, rally the troops and go spread the good word at the nearby Waffle House.
Class of ’03! Go Cougars!
