“I once brought a girl home because I liked her shoes. That was the only thing I noticed about her. I live in a really small apartment. A lot of my clothes end up piled on my mattress or draped over the open door of the microwave. I guess the girl with the pink high heels woke up in the middle of the night and didn’t remember where she was. She went out naked in the hall and closed the door behind her. She said that she had asked me, and I told her that was the way to the bathroom, to go out the front door. I don’t remember doing that. I remember I woke up with the cops in the house, asking me if I knew this girl. I said of course, she was the girl with the pink high heels. They thought that was really funny. After that I didn’t drink for about five months.”
a Fremantle writer's blog
the chook house 