Convalescing In Spain

I love the fall. Autumn to you homosexuals out there. It is such a peaceful time. The air gets cooler, the colors change, and I get to break out my Poison Jean Jacket. This time of year is very special to me. It's the time of year I finally kicked heroin. I was dating a girl named Julianne, she helped get me off of heroin, then I caught her fucking my best friend Steve in a bedroom at an Arbor Day party. Not long after that, Steve was found shot dead on the South Side of Chicago in what appeared to be drug deal gone bad. They never did find out who did it. Anyway, I started back up on the Horse and thank God I did because my mom died in a car accident with a gasoline tanker truck. They were able to tell it was her because they found some teeth at the scene, everything else was burned away. My dad went into catatonic shock after this, so I put him in an assisted living home and left the States for Pamplona, Spain. I remember being greeted by a man who would become my friend, Javier. He was a drug runner and as gay as the day is long. I didn't really mind, I liked him for his honesty and his ability to get drugs. Together we would drop acid, smoke Opium, and lose ourselves for days on some terrific cocaine benders. Having full control of the family fortune, I was able to just sort of live, and I use that term losely, without working in a nice villa. I would spend the days sitting outside in a cafe at the Plaza del Castillo drinking and smoking, then the nights I would spend with Javier. We would walk the city, especially around San Fermín, the Running of the Bulls and heckle Americans. We even got into a fight with five douchebags from Berkley. We destroyed them in about three minutes, then spent another fifteen minutes running from the policia. I tried kicking my habit by using other drugs liberally, and it was slowly working. Sure, the first few days were like placing your testacles inside a vice and squeezing until you are begging for death or an Alanis Morisette CD on repeat, but it got easier. Cocaine and weed made it a little easier, and drinking all day didn't hurt either. I guess it all culminated when Javier got in trouble and needed money bad. I wouldn't give it to him, so he beat the shit out of me. I think he tried to put a little shit back in though, because when I regained consciousness my asshole felt like a weekend in Calcutta. But I got off the drugs, and I spent the fall making love to Spanish hookers for cheap and drinking until I passed out. Fall is a beautiful, beautiful time of year.