Corey Haim’s “Notes from the Afterlife,” 13
So, like, this big shot dignitary arrived here late yesterday, and there’s been a huge amount of buzz about the dude, who rumor has it is a Latin American politician of some significant renown. I haven’t had a chance to see him yet — Brittany Murphy mumbled his name to me while we were chilling out watching a Blossom marathon, but I can’t remember it, and frankly, she was so full of Ketamine that I doubt she had it right, anyway — but there is a meet-and-greet scheduled for later this afternoon at one of the Hooter’s here, which I’ll probably hit if only for the happy hour wings and margaritas, and on the off-chance one of the waitresses has a nostalgic streak, saw Dream a Little Dream II, and wants to snack on the naughty bits of the Haimster, either in a bathroom stall or at her place after her shift ends (my own digs being littered at the moment with rank Haitian squatters whom I made the mistake of letting crash a month or so back in exchange for two tiny balloons of really crappy heroin).
Now, I’m not one to get my hopes up — Lord knows I haven’t had the greatest luck the past few years, starting with being suddenly dead and just last week culminating in a bout of whiskey-fed impotence (with an oiled-up River Phoenix silk-tied to a four post bed, no less!) — but that aside, I can be pretty charming when I put my mind to it, whether it be to a chicken wing waitress with awesome tits or to some swarthy South American pol who doesn’t yet know the lay of the land and might be in the market for a networked-in friend.
— And trust me when I say that I plan to lay the charm on thick when I meet this Jefe. Because if there’s one thing I’ve learned from all the swarthy Latin politicians I’ve partied with around here the last several years, it’s that every last one of these fat sons of bitches has access to some of the best coke you’ve ever run across your gums, or let Ernest Borgnine lick off your sack.
It’s uncanny, in fact. All I can figure is, they must know people. Plus have, like, an otherworldly distribution set up.
Though that’s not even the best part. The best part is that it’s an easy get, too, especially if you have the code words down. I mean, from each according to his ability, to each according to his need, right, my swarthy South American compadres…? And this brother needs a hookup. Like, super bad.
Man. Sometimes it can suck, but other times, Heaven just flat out fucking rocks!