Mr Venezuela 

He laughed in between every other word. I couldn’t take him seriously but then I knew that was just what I loved about him. People get caught up in their own bullshit and forget to laugh stuff off. He always reminded me that you always must laugh from the bottom of your butthole – as he put it!  

It was a nice evening so he got two bottles of wine which we drank while we walked through the park. I told him that I always thought it was only the tramps and homeless people who drank in parks. He looked at me and called me a tramp. I took it in my stride as I knew I was looking fabulous: men were giving me a stare that was almost dislocating their necks, while women were giving me a look that I loved to receive only from women; it was a mixture of envy and wonder. I even had a senile lady (in hideous flats) heckle ‘I don’t know why she’s wearing heels, she clearly looks like she’s suffering.’ I knew Venezuela would not judge me for crushing an old crow, so I responded with what I was thinking: ‘so I wouldn’t look as pathetic as you’. Venezuela laughed and said ‘feisty’. 



I rested my head on his shoulders as we sat by the swans. We were both very drunk in a park. Although, maybe I was more than drunk. I was wasted. What was my life becoming? Venezuela looked at me for long enough to make me think he is going to lunge and throw me in the water but he finally laughed the long stare off. He held an affectionate look and told me I was the best person he had ever known. I looked at my blurred reflection in the water and I simply agreed! 


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