At eleven o'clock I tossed my dirty red apron to the back shelf and regarded my replacement with a mere nod. Rain was still cascading mercilessly onto lonely Union Street when I exited the Kum N Go. I sighed and it was so cold I saw my breath. I was startled to realize, as I looked out at the miserable rain, that I would almost rather still be working than have to go home. Home was a shithole. I just wasn't in the mood to be depressed.

To my left I noticed a pimply-faced ragamuffin kid, fifteen or so, bouncing his dreadlock-covered head to the music that was playing loudly through his headphones. He dumped the electric blue contents of a giant pixie stick into his mouth, dancing in oblivious defiance to the grimey "No Loitering" sign above his head. He looked over at me and grinned with his blue teeth.

"Hey, man," he said, motioning for me with his painted black fingernails.

I shoved my hands into my pockets and shuffled over to the wiry stranger. "Yo," I greeted.

He licked blue powder from his fingers while gazing me over with interest, until at last comprehension flickered in his bloodshot eyes. "I know you, don't I? You're Craig Manning, right?"

I nodded slowly and felt an unpleasant sensation in the pit of my stomach, remembering the delightful conversation I'd had with Sully's girl that morning. My sudden fame as the Kum N Go Guy was not something I dug.

"We went to school together, man," he continued. "Kwan's creative writing class?"

I searched my mind and tried to recall my first period class from grade twelve, which I rarely ever woke up early enough to attend, and even if was there, I definitely wasn't... well, there. All the same, I managed to vaguely recall this kid and those effing headphones he never took off. "Right, right," I said. "Brian?"

"Yeah, no, it's Eli. But whatever. How are you?"

"Well I just got off my shift at the Kum N Go so... yeah, shitty as hell. How about yourself?"

"I'm super." He tilted back the pixie stick and let the shimmering blue powder cascade into his mouth. "You wanna buy some pot?"

My ears perked with sudden interest, as years of relying on pot to quiet the mother fucking noise of my life has trained me to do, but I realized that with the start of a new month, meaning a new downpour of bills, I really didn't have money to spare on weed. "Um, no, I'm good, actually."

"Aw, come now, good sir. I can see in those weary eyes that you are indeed in need of a good toke. Come on, I'll give you a good deal, since we're old pals and everything."

I sighed and rubbed my eyes. Dear GOD I was tired. "Look, man, I don't need any pot. I just need to get home."

"You know, you are ABSOLUTELY right, my friend." He wiped the blue residue from his mouth his his sleeve, then reached into his pocket and pulled out a small brown package. "A man of such notorious stonerdom deserves much more than that, and I apologize. THIS is what you need." He waved the package in front of my face.

"What the hell is it?" I asked. I reached for it, but he tugged it away.

"Only the most magnificent sample of X you will ever get your hands on. They manifacture this shit in like, Kenya or some shit, for some kind of religious ceremony. They say it takes them right to the pantheon of gods where they dance and reach eternal grace."

I gazed at the wrinkled package in his hand, somewhat curious, but mostly just too tired to deal with this weirdo. "Really?"

"I have no idea, actually. But my buddy Parker's all, 'Dude, this shit will fuck you up.' So what do you say, man? Feel like dancing with the gods?"

Now, the most obvious and sensible thing to do would be to walk away slowly and never look back. But I mean, this is me we're talking about. Logic is for high school graduates. I coughed over the fifty bucks that was supposed to help pay the electric and climbed into my soggy car, ready to share my findings with my beautiful family.

When I arrived back at the dump I call home, I was still clutching the little baggy in my pocket, drugs sitting pretty, just waiting to do the impossible, and make me forget that I really should just kill myself right now. I was getting antsy, and I probably would've selfishly popped the whole thing in my mouth as I was driving if I weren't so busy trying not to crash in the sopping shit-mobile with its wheels dangling off their axles. I was able to cool myself off a little after remembering that no matter how long the high lasted, when I woke up, she would still be there, and I'd still be face to face with hell personified, morning after morning after morning.

I trudged up to my apartment and shoved my key into the lock, but to no avail. I took it out and it looked crooked, so I bent it back into place, but when I jammed it into the key only to have it STICK there. Apparently my little issue with the lock did not go unnoticed inside, for a few seconds later, the door opens and it's Sully standing there, and for a second I actually thought about being somewhat generous and actually thanking him, 'cause it was uncharacteristically... un-assholeish of him, then all of a sudden he's saying, "Tell me your bitch isn't staying here permanently."

It was great to know the only reason I was let into my own home was to give an explanation for Manny's presence. I stepped in, wiped my muddy sneakers riddled with holes on and dripped all over the carpet. I noticed the muted softcore Cinemax porn on the TV before Manny, curled up against the side of the couch, grabbed the remote and started flipping through the channels. Sully was still standing there looking for an answer from me.

I sighed. "Yeah, I guess."

He started ranting and raving about the agreement we made (an agreement we never made), about how I could bang whoever I wanted, but this was just insane. "This isn't fucking 'Pretty Woman,' Craig. We don't take whores off the street and give them all the shit they want for abso-fucking-lutely nothing in return."

All the while, Manny was sitting a few feet away, resting her head against her palm, her elbow bent and resting on the couch arm, watching a rerun of "Friends." I assumed she was hearing this. If she was, I was impressed. Good tuning-Sully-out skills. They could come in handy. Often.

He stopped mid-rant and turned around, looking at the TV. "What the fuck? I hate David Schwimmer. Get that asshole off my TV." I'm thinking Fuckface Girl didn't put in the necessary hours to fulfill Sully's weekly banging quota. He grabbed the remote out of Manny's hand, flopped down on the couch next to her and changed the channel back to Cinemax, but the movie was over. She sighed and looked over at me, still standing in the doorway. Then she got up, as was customary, and hugged me as I stood awkwardly with my arms at my sides.

"Um, hi," I said. She stepped back and cocked her head at me and looked at me with the familiar look of unceasing dissatisfaction. "What?" She looked down at the floor like maybe the floor would understand what the hell she was saying. 'Cause I certainly wasn't. She sighed.

"Nothing," she said before returning to the couch, sitting the farthest point possible from Sully. I gave in and sat between them. I realized for a second that we were like a dysfunctional family at dinnertime: all disgruntled and hating each other, staring at the television because it gave us something to look at that was not each other. Realizing this, I felt a whole lot more comfortable living with Manny. I'd had this vision in my head that allowing her to live here was like some sort of commitment, or a sign (in her mind) that I loved her. But I'd been apart of dysfunctional families my entire life. I mean, my dad was a prick and I lived with him for fourteen years. So where the hell did I get the perception that living under the same roof as someone actually meant something?

I mean, not that this made living with Manny suck any less, but at least one piece of the burden was lifted.

The commercial came on before I realized I had no idea what we were watching.

"You know what we should do?" Manny got up, bouncing over to the closet near the kitchen. I watched out of the corner of my eye as she stood on her tip-toes and searched around the second shelf. I lost interest when a local pizza place commercial came on, but a few seconds later, she returned with a box in her hands. I read the side of it and stared blankly.

"Manny..."

"Pleeeeeease," she whined. "Craig, come on." She shook the Monopoly box in her hands and smiled. "The three of us have to bond."

"Go fuck yourself, Santos," Sully muttered beside me. While I wouldn't quite word it that way, I found myself agreeing with him. Playing one effing game of a board game where I would always end up mortgaging everything I own just to survive was not going to make me feel any better about my current living situation.

"Craaaaig, please please please." She paused for a second, as if realizing she was groveling and being annoying, and plastered on an endearing smile. Unfortunately, I was completely immune to that shit, so I just stared. Bonding... yeah, fine, whatever keeps Manny appeased. What I really opposed here was Monopoly. I mean, board games? All they do is piss people off, and then for the next week you're stepping on little pieces that got chucked across the room after they lost. What we really needed was something that could help us forget we all hated each other's guts.

Brilliance struck me, in a moment. I mean, how the hell could I forget about the little pill in my pocket, waiting, decreasing in quality as we spoke?

"You know, Manny, we should bond," I said, as I fished around my pockets for the little baggy. "With this." I brought it out and let the two admire it as I pinched the top of the bag between my fingers. Within a few seconds Sully had grabbed it and was looking at it closer in the palm of his hand.

"Dude," he said, laughing. "What did you do, like, sell your kidneys for this?" I snatched it back and ignored him. I looked at Manny hopefully, actually grinning at her for the first time in forever in anticipation of being fucked up beyond all belief. Manny stood uncomfortably in front of me, her mouth stuck in contemplation. She fidgeted, then took the seat beside me again.

"It's... I mean, it's safe, right?" She twirled a piece of hair that had fallen from her messy ponytail. "I mean, there's no chance I could... die, or anything." Part of me felt like explaining to her that there was always a chance you could die when you did drugs, but part of me just did not give enough of a fuck. I needed Manny, and even Sully, to do this with me, so it wasn't just me sitting on the couch in some trippy lonely E-hole.

"No way, baby," I told her. "You'll be right as rain."

After the astounding mathematical challenge of splitting the circular pill three ways, and after about an hour, I was in love all over again. To put it simply, Manny was right as rain. She dripped fluidly across my dingy couch, the couch that suddenly shimmered with all the glory of the golden gods of the ancient song of love in the galaxy of the... haha. I forgot what I was talking about. I like sparkles. I leaned across the coffee table and kissed her, drank from the glowing puddle of Manny, and I felt her strength pouring into me. It was all the nourishment I'd ever need.

"You're on my property, bitch," Manny yelled across the Monopoly board. "Gimme your money."

Sully, on the otherside of the coffee table, laughed wildly. "You fuck," he said. He realized that words didn't come out quite right, but instead of caring he just laughed again and spit at Manny.

I watched the bubbly ball of spit dribble slowly down Manny's cheek. She didn't even care. She giggled the same way she did when she was watching Friends and wiped it off with her hand. "You are so gross. Now pay up, you fucking top hat."

"Um, Manny," I said, stroking her hair. She was soft. Soft like light. Soft like frosting. "Sully's not the top hat. He's the iron."

Manny's eyes grew wide. I could have sworn I saw Saturn in her eyes, they were as vast as a galaxy. "Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god." Like rain, she drizzled off the couch. She fell into the dirty carpet and laughed and cried. She climbed across the coffee table, scattering rainbow paper money in every direction. "Oh my god, you guys. Sully IS the iron. He totally is." She laid across the coffee table, ruining Monopoly. The game crumbled and poured to the floor, and the colors were dancing so fast my head started hurting. She looked like a lamb on an altar, waiting to be sacrificed. She breathed heavily and writhed slowly. I wanted to fuck her.

"Tummy farts!" yelled Sully. He lifted Manny's shirt and put his mouth on her belly, spitting and blowing like a mother with a toddler. Manny laughed and started singing the words to "Hella Good." The door bell rang, hurting my already tingly head.

When I opened the door I saw J.T. Yorke standing there in an explosion of red and orange, holding a pizza in a red and orange box. The colors was so pretty and the sight so endearing that I started cracking up. I was suddenly on the floor, choking on the laughter, while J.T. the pizza man watched in bewilderment. I just leaned against the pane of the door, laughing wildly and seeing lights dance all around the apartment.

"J.T.!" Manny squealed from within the apartment. She bounced over to the door, followed by a disoriented Sully. "Oh my god you look so precious in your uniform!" She immediately embraced him and swung him carelessly. Fear struck J.T.'s eyes as he tried desperately not to lose his balance and drop the pizza in his hands.

"Yeah, um, hey Manny," he said. I recognized that look in his eyes, the look that says 'God I wish I was anywhere but here.' "It's great to see you guys. You um, ordered a pizza?"

"Aw, pizza, that's soooo sweet." She began stroking her fingers through J.T.'s hair, which made him noticeably uncomfortable. "Craigy did you order me a pizza? I love you soooo much."

I was still on the floor, lifeless, choking on laughter, barely aware of what was happening. "Um, did I? I don't know. I wish I'd ordered a pizza."

"Dude, you DID," said Sully, yanking the pizza from J.T.'s hands. "And even if you didn't, it doesn't matter. God clearly WANTS us to have this pizza."

"No, really. Did I order a pizza?"

"Oh my god, J.T., you should totally stay and eat with us! This pizza is from God, J.T. He wanted us to be together." Manny was now busily running her hands across J.T.'s red and orange-clad chest.

"Uh, I... Yeah, I can't. I've got, you know... pizzas. To deliver."

"No, dude, you totally should!" said Sully. Pizza dripped carelessly from his mouth as he spoke and he totally didn't even know it. "Manny here is like, horny as a jackrabbit. Sex show, Yorke and Santos, and.... go!" This was apparently so funny that Sully, too, found himself brought to the ground by his laughter. His mouth was so full of pizza it was a wondering he wasn't choking. I kind of wished he would.

"Wow, um, that's delightful," said J.T. Manny was now nuzzling his neck, giggling. "But yeah, if you could just give me the fifteen-twenty you owe me, that'd be great..."

"Dude, I totally didn't order a pizza. Did I?"

"Fuck her, J.T. Do it. I know you wanna. Haha, you can't, can you? Classic."

"Oh my god your hair is soooo pretty. Can I lick your ear?"

"NO, YOU CANNOT LICK MY EAR!" J.T. quickly pushed Manny off of him. Over-dramatically, she fell to the floor. How lovely. Now the three of us were one happy family again, all of us on the floor and tripping out of our minds. "I'll just pay for the pizza myself." He turned around and made a quick exit.

"Hey, man, not cool!" Sully shouted after him. A chunk of chewed pizza crust flew out of his mouth and hit me in the face. I laughed. "This isn't the hokey pokey, mother fucker! You can't just turn yourself around!"

"Jaaaaaaaaay Teeeeeeeeee!" cried Manny. I noticed she was sweating profusely. "Don't leave! Come back!" Out of nowhere, she began to cry. She curled up in a little ball in the middle of the hall way, tears mixing with sweat down her wet face.

Sully laughed. "Shit, man. She's freaking out."

Manny shivered. "I'm cold, Craig. I don't like this any more."

I crawled across the floor to her and took her in my arms. "No, shhh, it's okay don't cry."

She flinched when I touched her. She was shaking so badly. "I'm scared, Craig. I'm scared. I don't like this any more."

"Haha, she's totally freaking out."

"Shut UP, Sully, she is not freaking out." I looked into the fearful eyes of the child in my arms. Yeah, she was totally freaking out. "Okay, okay. Okay. Just... here. Let's go back inside. Come one. Let's get you some water or something."

"Shit, I LOVE this song!" Sully yelled over the Bowie of which he was increasing the volume on the stereo in the corner. "Rebel, Rebel" bounced off every surface of the house as Sully started head-banging like this was heavy metal.

I pulled her back into the apartment so no passerbys would flip and call the police, but could barely get her to move more than two feet into the room. Instead, she sat by the doorway and cried quietly, too quietly to be heard over the music. I took a second to try to soothe her, touching her face and whispering whatever I thought sounded good, but it wasn't working well. I stood up, and the sensation of walking across the carpet felt foreign to me. Even the dull brown of the tables and the rug were bright and pretty to me, and concentrating on getting the water was hard. I returned within a minute or so with a glass full of water, and plopped down on the ground next to Manny.

I handed her the glass, but her shaking hands couldn't hold it very well, so I took it upon myself to hold it in place as she tilted it back against her lips, some water splashed out onto her shirt and pants. She continued sipping, while I took her in my arms again and tried to keep her from shaking.

"Hot tramp, I love you so!" Sully screeched, now playing air guitar, standing up on the couch. I sighed. Manny had dropped the glass on the carpet as she buried her face in my shoulder, spilling its contents across her foot and the rug. I watched her chest rise and fall as she took in slow breaths, the beautiful calm after the storm. Leave it to Manny to ruin a good ecstasy high. But I couldn't be angry at her, of course. I held her. I sang David Bowie to her. I sat with her on the dirty floor and tried to make the rest of the high last as long possible. That's all I could ever do with Manny. Just wait it out.