Vanishing Twin Syndrome
Some kid with a beard and a flannel, both in dire need of a wash, offered me Jungle Juice. I told him, no, I don’t want that. The stereo kept blaring that one unintelligible Nirvana song over and over, and I would have thrown my drink at the backwoods-grunge guy with the ponytail who had designated himself DJ, only I didn’t have a drink. An oversized white t-shirt containing a tiny white boy offered me an enticing plate of brownies, but I said no, I don’t want that. The music changed to something poppy, but I didn’t know how to dance to it. Everyone else did....
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