Written by Lord Lansdowne

The two stories that follow were written in typical special moments when you feel that your creativity has either reached a peak, or you are feeling so out of your mind, that you end up giggling about the tablecloth. This state is either reached with a constant lack of sleep, something which we are experts at, or with the aid of other products, which are scientifically approved by CoN scientists.

I was standing in front of the coat-check-in place. The girl said something, but I couldn't hear her. My hears were buzzing. The only clear sound was being picked up by my stomach each time the bass was blasting through the entire building. The girl opened her mouth again, but nothing came out. Or something probably did, but I still couldn't hear her. I assumed she wanted the ticket for the coat. I fumbled with my wallet, stuck in the back-pocket of my pants, finally pulled it out and gave it to her.

With a smile I said "Sorry, I can't hear a word you're saying" but she didn't laugh. She didn't laugh. She didn't even smile. Wasn't it funny? I thought it was funny. Oh well, what would she know.

I grabbed my coat, found the right sleeve for the right arm and put it on. Somehow, although with a little difficulty, I managed to pull myself on the handrail and walk back upstairs. I thought about going to work on Monday. Work. Monday. I think I will look like shit.

I wanted to stay more, but my body was screaming for me to stop dancing. I had been up since 6 AM. It was now 8 AM. No, it was 2 AM. The watch was still 6 hours ahead, but for some reason I couldn't figure out why. I didn't want to go, even if at one point I felt like I had smoked a big fat joint, or I was in one of those psychedelic movies where you hear a lot of incomprehensible noise, see a lot of coloured lights, you can't make sense of anything around and everything is spinning. Except that nothing was spinning.

I kept on staring at the dietician. She had a name at one point, but I lost it between a Rye and a Beer. I could only think of her as one of those girls that are not particularly attractive but grab your attention, but your conscience keeps on reminding you that you are taken already. Not a good thing. Not a good thing having your conscience playing tricks on you all because of a pair of bouncing breasts, that is.

Someone grabbed my breast. I turned around and I didn't know if she was good enough for me, or I was good enough for him. "That's it" I thought. "I'm fucked" and as I stared in everybody's eyes, without ever achieving the correct focus I heard myself say "I better leave". And I did.