My bud Steve got himself into a doozy this time.

Across the hallway from his sales office is a rehab clinic. Whenever he goes out for a cigarette, all sorts of troubled souls wander past thinking about drugs, be it finding them or staying off them. One of them took to bumming smokes from Steve. Her name is Bridget.

Eventually they started hanging out, and Bridget started bringing friends around with her to Steve's apartment. One of the friends, whose name I don't know, came to visit Steve last weekend. I'll call her Trashy.

Trashy came with three guys but had left them at a nearby bar to go visit Steve. She aksed him for some coke, but he didn't want to help a recovering addict get a fix, or maybe he couldn't get any, I'm not sure which. She asked him if he and Bridget had hooked up, and when he answered no, she busted out the porn dialogue and said "Let's fuck." They did, and she left.

About an hour later, three big guys broke the window of Steve's back door with a gun handle and let themselves in. Trashy had gone back to the bar crying and shaking, and she said Steve had raped her. The guys beat the shit out of Steve and broke his hand. Forunately they didn't shoot him or steal anything.

The moral of the story is this: don't hang out with cokeheads who don't have any. They behave strangely.

I'm going to borrow his gym card since he can't work out with a broken hand. Lucky me.
12:38 PM - Bottle Rocket Fire Alarm