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the sun had just about begun to set by the time I stepped off the bus to the keystone motor inn. taking a moment to check my pockets to make sure I didn't leave anything behind, I turned my attention to the other side of the street where my destination lay. the great western roadhouse was by far the most popular nightclub in Brandon, not that it had much competition. though it was ostensibly meant as a venue for country music, its owners had quickly realized that it would be far easier and cheaper to keep a DJ on payroll instead of going through the hassle of booking new acts on the regular. the club itself was a part of a larger complex called the keystone centre, which contained a hotel, a pool, a hockey rink, a convention centre, and a few restaurants, among other things.

not wanting to put myself at unnecessary risk of a collision, I hurriedly scampered down the crosswalk as soon as i'd seen the signal change. once i'd reached the safety of the other side, I returned myself to a normal walking pace, heading southbound towards the centre's entrance. the roadhouse had an exterior entrance that would've gotten me in quicker, but if I wanted to have more than one or two drinks, I was going to have to stop at an ATM first.

once I was inside, I made my way down a long entrance corridor covered on both sides with blown up antique photographs of the city's original settlers. the hallway had always unnerved me, the judgmental stares of long dead strangers looking down at me as i prepared to drink my wage. at the end of the hall, next to the entrance for a low-end steakhouse, was the ATM. it was one of those suspicious third-party ATMs that charged a small fortune in fees, i knew if i took the time to search for a more reputable machine that i'd probably return to a line outside the roadhouse a mile long,, so i bit my tongue and stuck my card in, silently praying all the while that the machine wouldn't steal my information.

a few button presses later, the machine spat my card back out before dispensing $60 of fresh twenties. sliding the money and my card into my wallet, i turned around and walked back down the hallway to the roadhouse. the club's interior entrance was fairly low-key. no sign, no lights, just a black pair of steel doors with a decal of the club's logo slapped on. pushing the doors open, I stepped into the club and was instantly hit with the blaring sound of obnoxious tropical house. a bearded man in a black t-shirt asked for my id. after confirming that was of age, he held out a small plastic container and instructed me to empty my pockets into it before stepping through the metal detector behind him. I nodded and did as he said. i remembered the clubs security being particularly overzealous, but with the number of fights i'd seen brek out there, I could understand why.

after I went through the metal detector to no complaint from the machine, the bearded man began loosely patting me down to check for any concealed items. finding me to be clean, he stepped aside and allowed me to enter into the club, thankfully remembering the advertised promise of free cover before 10 this time. the roadhouse's interior was about as nice as one could expect for a nightclub in a city like Brandon. a few booths were set up in the entryway leading into the main room, where a wooden dancefloor was laid out in front of the DJ table, taking up a good portion of it. surrounding the floor was a scattering of circular metal tables, as well as a lightly stocked bar on each side. tucked away in the back behind a larger bar were a few pool tables and the entrance to the smoking patio. finally, the entrances to the two bathrooms were located directly next to each other in a space to the left of the DJ table.

as usual for that early in the night, the club was mostly deserted, save for a handful of bartenders and security personnel. walking over to the large bar in the back, I waited to catch the bartenders attention before ordering a vodka red bull. setting the drink down in front of me, the bartender informed me that I now owed her $11. i supposed the price should've outraged me, but i'd been to clubs that charged about that much and didn't even have the courtesy to mix it together for me, so I laid down a twenty without another word.

shoving the change deep into my back pocket, I took the drink and headed over to the booths in the back to wait for more people to trickle in. as I sat my glass down onto the sticky, chipped, wooden table, my eyes caught ahold of one of the number of messages that had been carved into it over the years. "STEFAN + CANDICE", written inside a heart. I stared at it as I took a sip of my drink, the sickly sweet concoction doing a well-enough job of masking the taste of the alcohol. it felt like everywhere I went I was being haunted by my desire for affection. I briefly thought of that scene in taxi driver where deniro calls himself "god's lonely man" before sweeping the thought out of my mind, irritated by my played-out mopiness.

it was at about that moment that a young woman walked up to my booth and sat herself down. the combination of the lights, the alcohol, the music, and my own thoughts proved to be overwhelming enough I barely even noticed her until she spoke. "are you waiting for someone?"

snapping back to reality, I allowed myself a moment to take a good look at the woman. she looked to be about my age, maybe a year younger, 5'2, and skinny. shamefully though, the foremost impression I got was that she looked a female version of mr. bean. despite what other people seemed to think, I was socially aware enough to know coming right out and saying this likely wouldn't go over well, so I decided to humor her for the moment. "no."

She gave me a toothy smile and seemed to grow more comfortable in her seat. "my name's maya, what's yours?" she asked, holding out her hand.

"XXXXXX" I replied, giving her as firm of a handshake as I could muster. her grip was loose and her skin was clammy. i let go of her hand and took another sip of my drink, hoping I didn't look as uncomfortable as I felt. "so, how're you doing?"

"good, how about you?"

"good, good." I said, nodding my head frantically.

"that's good to hear." she paused, before asking "do you go to BU?"

"yeah, I'm taking uh... business."

"that's cool!" she smiled again, and I wondered why I only ever seemed to be approached by ugly women when I go to clubs. "I'm studying there too, I'm taking nursing."

"cool." I said, barely bothering to feign interest. i took another drink and formulated a plan. as soon as my glass was empty i'd say I was going to get another drink, then i'd make for the outside door. I was pretty sure they weren't allowed to keep it locked from the inside due to fire regulations, and it was far enough that I was pretty sure she wouldn't see me leave.

"yeah, I just moved here from regina a few days ago, and I still don't really know many people here." she continued. "honestly though, I didn't really know many people back there either, but I'm hoping that here things can be different." she said, giving a small, melancholy smile.

"shit." I thought to myself 'i'm gonna have to end up fucking this woman. or at the very least spending the rest of the night stuck in this booth pretending I have any sort of interest in her." anyone with an ounce of courage would've made it clear to her that they weren't interested, but I knew I wouldn't be able to stand seeing or even thinking about the look she'd get on her face upon being coldly rejected by the first person she'd tried to reach out to in her new home. I finished my drink, and excused myself to get another. if this was how I was going to have to spend the night, I was definitely gonna need a few more. 

i made my way over to the bar and ordered a smirnoff ice, sliding a $5 bill across the counter. by the time I had returned to the booth with my drink, maya had disappeared, taking a brief look around the club, I was quickly able to find her at one of the tables, conversing with a rotund older man in a cowboy hat. a wave of relief washed over me, soon followed by a feeling of inexplicable jealousy. sure, I hadn't had any interest at all in this woman, but being ditched in favor of some redneck who looks like ernest borgnine will do a number on any man's self esteem. "maybe she just thought he looked rich." I justified to myself. nothing about their body language seemed to suggest anything sexual, but I could only assume women went to nightclubs alone for the same reasons men did.

trying to put maya out of my mind, I walked over to the pool tables and began dispassionately observing a game being played by two young, well-groomed indian men, I didn't know who was shooting at what balls, but frankly, I didn't care, I was just looking for something to pass the time until more people showed up. after a few minutes though, I began growing restless and desperate for activity. i pulled out my phone to check the time, 10:39. i'd known from past experience that it usually wasn't until after 11 that the club started to get a decent amount of people in. a part of me wished that I had just taken the 10:15 bus, but I knew that if i'd done that, i'd've had to spend half-an-hour waiting in line. it was for the better I showed up early. at least that way i'd already have a decent buzz going once the place started to get more lively.

that was pretty much all I could do for the time being. i had no clue how to play pool and no interest in being the only person on an otherwise deserted dancefloor. by the time the club had started to properly fill up about an hour later, i'd downed another two cans of smirnoff ice and was ready to finally have some fun. as I stumbled out of the men's room for the third time that night, the chorus to "S&M" hit and I yelled/sang along despite only knowing one line. a scandinavian-looking man pulled me over to his table and asked me for a picture. i obliged, and playfully flipped off the camera a la johnny cash, which he seemed to find amusing. making my way past him, I pushed through the crowd to make my way over to one of the smaller bars and get another drink. a small voice in the back of my head told me I should probably call it here, or at the very least slow down a little, but I quickly pushed those thoughts to the back of my head. i made enough from my part-time job I didn't need to worry about the cost, and I had faith in the bartender to cut me off before I made myself sick.

i had nearly made it up to the counter when a loud crash rang out from the back of the club, causing me to turn around in search of it's source. over by the outside exit, a well-built Chinese man in a cowboy hat had been in the process of being thrown out by security, putting up such a fight that another two bouncers had to be summoned to quite literally drag him out kicking and screaming, knocking over a metal detector in the process. the disturbance taken care of, everyone did their best to put the incident aside and return to their prior business, myself included. still, a palpable discomfort could be felt radiating throughout the room, as if one could hear everyone thinking at once, "what the hell was that all about?"

after i'd gotten my drink, I decided that it was about time for me to start dancing. by this point of the night, the floor was packed, a good 60 to 70 people being crammed onto it. spotting an opening in the crowd, I slipped myself into the sea of people right as the DJ switched the track over to "milkshake". the floor was coated in a thick layer of spilled sweat and alcohol, to the point that the soles of my shoes audibly stuck to the ground with each step I took. none of this stopped me from giving in to the rhythm, though. i wildly flailed my limbs about, taking care not to spill any of my drink (though not being too upset when I did). i slinked through the bodies, attracting a good deal of attention as I tried my best to imitate something i'd seen in a james brown video ages ago.

as I danced, I noticed that the crowd was slowly beginning to give me a wider berth, unwilling to take the risk of being struck by an errant limb. eventually, I was left with a good 8 feet of floor space to myself. somehow, my particular style of dancing had managed to catch the attention of the DJ, who threw on "it's tricky" before shining a spotlight down on me and exclaiming "this guy's on fire!" I didn't know what I was supposed to do, so I just kept dancing.

eventually, the crowd closed in on me again. no longer the center of attention, I slipped away from the dancefloor in order to use the bathroom and catch my breath. a black guy up to me and called me his n-word, which I responded to with nervous, disbelieving laughter. I walked into the club's bathroom, where about half-a-dozen people were milling about, taking advantage of the slight audial insulation provided by the tiled walls to shoot the shit in a somewhat calmer environment. the bathroom itself looked to be in desperate need of a remodeling. a good deal of the tiling on the bottoms of the walls had been smashed in by unruly occupants, while half of the sinks had no mirror hanging above them, just a ghostly outline on the wall.

moving past the bathrooms other occupants, I leaned up against the counter and waited for one of the stalls to open up.. a few moments later, a fat guy in a weezer shirt exited the stall closest to me, not bothering to flush. not wanting to hold my piss in any longer, I reluctantly entered the stall, averting my eyes as best I could as I pulled down on the toilet's handle. the bowl now emptied, I sat down on the still-warm toilet seat and began to relieve myself. the bathroom stalls were constructed from cheap, low-grade wood, which had splintered off heavily around the lock area. this meant that as I was doing my business, I had to use one of my feet to keep the door held shut, lest some drunk attempt to intrude on my privacy.

once my bladder had been drained and I was sure I didn't have any piss droplets lingering on my dick, I flushed the toilet and exited the stall. i was just about finished washing my hands when I heard someone call out to me from the bathrooms entrance. "XXXXXX? is that you? how's it been man!"

I turned around and was met by a tall, pasty man a little older than me clad in a blue plaid shirt and a cowboy hat, from which a few tufts of ginger hair were poking out of. his face was angular and masculine, though not in a particularly flattering way. it felt like I knew the man from somewhere, but from where exactly was something that was slipping my mind. "who are you?" I asked.

"max stapleton, from middle school. remember?"

as soon as he'd said his name, everything seemed to click into place. of course I remembered, how could I forget? as soon as we'd met in first grade max had it out for me. the two of us could hardly go near each other without it ending with someone (usually me) on the floor crying. the only time I could recall the two of us ever managing to get along was in 6th grade, when me and about a dozen other kids watched a porno on his ipod touch under the bleachers on track & field day. i assumed that i'd never have to see his face again after graduating from elementary school, but now here he was, standing in front of me in a nightclub bathroom, seemingly without any idea how much I hated him as a kid.

as tempting as it was for me to lay into him right there and then, I decided to play dumb for the moment being. after all, it had been a good decade since we'd seen each other last, and he was acting friendly enough. maybe he'd managed to clean up his act since elementary school. "oh yeah, I remember you now." I said, trying my best to seem pleasantly surprised. "what've you been up to?"

"not much really, I've just been helping out at my uncle's construction company."

I nodded, unsurprised "oh yeah? what's that pay?"

"pretty good, around $17.50 an hour."

"nice." I said, somehow managing to contain my resentment.

"what about you, what're you doing?"

"oh, I'm uh, studying business down at BU."

"ah, cool, any particular type of business, or..."

"accounting." I answered, cutting off the question i'd been asked practically every time I mentioned studying business.

"oh, yeah. that's a good choice. i heard accountants make lots of money."

"yeah, well they'd better, cause that's the only reason I'm studying it." I said, half-jokingly.

max laughed, then patted me hard on the shoulder. "yeah, alright then buddy. it's been good seeing you around. take care now."

"yeah, you too." I said through gritted teeth as I squeezed my way past him and out of the bathroom. whatever urge for revelry i'd had a few minutes ago had been thrown out the window with that encounter. i'd had my fun for the night, now it was time for me to get the hell out of there before I ended up standing next to max at the bar. i didn't know if it was the booze or the way he was acting all buddy-buddy with me or stupid fucking cowboy hat but something about the whole deal made me feel sick to my stomach and I knew I needed to get some fresh air quick.

shoving open the club's side entrance, I stumbled outside and took a deep breath of the cold night air. a few moments and a few more breaths later, I was starting to feel a bit better. now that my head was cleared as much as it could be for someone in my state, I realized that unless i wanted to stand in line half-an hour to get back in the club, I was going to have to call a cab home. taking the phone out of my pocket, i selected the cab company from my call history and told them to meet me at the front entrance of the hotel.

as i made my way over to the front of the hotel, where i'd asked the cab to meet me, what little improvement in mood i'd seen quickly vanished as i began thinking about a bust the night turned out to be. all i'd wanted out of the night was to meet some new people, and maybe get some pussy for once in my life if i was lucky. but while i'd technically achieved the first part of my goal, what little connections i'd managed to form that night were fleeting and meaningless enough to make me wish i'd just stayed home and finished off the last of my pot stash. why was it so fucking hard for me to just talk to people like a normal person? (apart from the obvious.)

a white toyota pulled up in front of me, bearing the logo of the taxi company on its doors. i got into the car, and as i was giving my address to the driver, i decided to kill myself once i got home. it wouldn't be too hard, there was a bridge about 15 minutes away from my house that seemed like it would do the trick. it was over a river too, so if the fall wasn't enough to take me out, the water would finish the job.

i looked out my window. signs lit up the street from both sides, even though practically nothing was open at this hour. briefly, i wondered how much money was wasted a year lighting up closed stores. enough to change my life, no doubt. the cab made a left off the main street and slowly rolled into my neighbourhood, it was a couple blocks of dumpy suburbs, just barely nice enough not to be considered a ghetto. to the southmost edge of the neighbourhood, a fenced-off train track cut through the city, separating us from the downtown area. at the very least it made rent cheaper.

pulling up in front of the dull beige duplex i'd been living in for the past 3 years, the cab driver turned around told me my fare would be $11.70. I dutifully took out my debit card from my walled and tapped it on the card reader that was mounted between the two front seats. the two of us wished each other a good night and i was on my way. after managing to get the front door unlocked, i made my way down the stairs and headed straight for the kitchen. if i was really going to be doing this, i figured there was no sense in not allowing myself a last meal. i opened up my freezer and produced two pizza pops, placing them on a paper plate and shoving them into the microwave. as they cooked, i briefly contemplated leaving a note behind for my parents, but decided there wasn't anything i could say that wouldn't just end up hurting them more.

a series of short, shrill beeps from the microwave indicated to me that my food had finished cooking. i opened up the microwave and removed the food, some of the filling had leaked out of one of the pizza pops, oozing out onto the plate like the entrails of a roadkilled animal. sitting down at my dinner table, i wasted no time in shovelling the steaming hot pastry into my mouth. it was good. even the mouth blistering heat of the melted cheese wasn't enough to stop me from feeling reinvigorated. within a few bites i had started to rethink my outlook on life. so what if i hadn't managed to get laid that night? i was still 20. that was plenty young. i still had a good 10 years of youth ahead of me before i had to worry about having wasted it, i might as well see how they were going to play out before i went and made any rash decisions.

finishing my meal, I threw away my plate and proceeded to stumble down the hallway to my bed. as I worked my way under the sheets, I faintly remembered recognizing an old acquaintance of mine in the VA credits of a newgrounds post i'd watched earlier, and decided to send her a DM whenever I woke up. burying my face into my pillow, I put all my troubles aside for the moment and allowed myself to slip into a more temporary type of oblivion.

My new EP "Made to Believe" has just released! Listen on BandCamp Now!

https://kinggunshot.bandcamp.com/album/made-to-believe

i spent new year's eve 2019 at a party my older cousin was holding at my grandmothers house. she was in the early stages of dementia and had been recently transferred into hospice care, meaning that we had the whole place to ourselves. me, her, and a handful of her friends had arrived at the house at around 8 in the afternoon, they had brought a few bottles of liquor with them to liven up the occasion, but i'd decided not to partake since I was still underaged at the time and was worried about my parents finding out. we had gathered around in the living room to kill time while waiting for a few other guests to arrive, and somehow the conversation turned to the topic of star wars. i bluntly stated that I found the latest films in the series to have been shit, only to be met with a near unanimous "let people enjoy" things response from the other party guests. not wanting to cause a scene this early into the party, I quickly changed the topic and threw some music on the wireless speaker i'd brought with me.

eventually, the other guests arrived, among them being a woman a few years older than me dressed in a gothic outfit complete with dyed bangs and a pair of tall black leather boots she proudly referred to as her "nazi-stompers" in a desperate attempt to come off as more rebellious than she really was. even at the time I could tell the extent of her resistance would likely only go as far as zinging someone on twitter or spitting in a rednecks food at dairy queen, but I once again bit my tongue and remained silent. i'd barely known most of the people there anyway, and i didn't want to leave a bad impression by calling her a phony in front of everyone.

the next few hours leading up to midnight went by at an agonizing pace, not helped by the fact i was the only person in the house who was sober. a few attempts were made as a group to start party games, all of which were abandoned within a few minutes in favor of listening to someone tell a rambling story about their crackhead roommate, who everyone agreed should probably be in prison. at one point it was discovered that my grandmother's hideous 70s puke green toilet was no longer flushing, leading to a good half-an-hour being spent worrying about any possible repercussions we might face for breaking the toilet before someone managed to fix the mechanism.

after what seemed to be a small eternity, we'd all gathered in the dining and turned on the tv so we could watch the ball drop. we all counted down the last seconds of the year in tandem, blissfully unaware of how much of a complete and utter shitshow the following year would turn out to be. afterward, my cousin asked everyone to share their new years resolution. i couldn't come up with anything, so I just made up some bullshit about how new years resolutions are pointless because no one ever follows through with them, which seemed to do the trick. there was some more chatting and general pleasantries as guests began to trickle out the door, but by that point, I had long since been mentally checked out, and at some point I slipped away into one of the bedrooms without telling anyone and fell asleep.

i spent new year's eve (or was it christmas?) 2022 at another party held by my cousin, this time at her apartment in minneapolis. it was my first time there, and I distinctly remember being surprised at how roomy it seemed, even when split between two people. enough time had passed since the last party that I could now legally drink (at least in canada), and id brought a 24 pack of miller lite with me as a party favor. after setting the beer down and chatting with the guests for a while, i'd realized it was only 4:30 in the evening and I already felt moments away from passing out. getting up from my spot on the couch, I made my way over to the gas station across the street to purchase a can of monster.

around 6 hours later, I was standing in the apartment's kitchenette, half-listening to a guest who had recently begun transitioning describe the vaginoplasty procedure in graphic detail. i grimaced as I took a sip of my beer, less because of the subject matter and more due to the fact that my cousin had no room in the fridge, forcing the beer to spend all day sitting out on the countertop growing tepid. despite this, I was eager enough to avoid being the only sober person in the room again that I was already on my fifth can of the night. not that it helped much, maybe my expectations were just poisoned by the last new year's party sucking, but I was finding myself growing increasingly starved for entertainment.

none of this was helped by the fact the number of guests my cousin had invited was at least double the number she had the last time, leaving the apartment cramped and unseasonably warm. the goth from last party took a pipe and some weed out of her pocket and asked if anyone wanted to go outside and get high with her, I considered the offer, but ultimately turned it down, figuring i'd be better off having my first time be somewhere familiar. at one point my cousin had turned on the tv and started playing baby sensory videos for a cheap laugh, which she continued trying to milk for a good half-hour after everyone else had gotten over it. eventually, most of the guests had left, save for me and about 6 other people who were planning on crashing in the living room. fortunately, my cousin was kind enough to let me have the couch, on account of the fact that we were related.

the next morning, after i'd gotten out of the shower, I exited the bathroom and found my cousin and the remaining guests gathered around the tv watching softcore gay porn. i asked what they were doing and my cousin claimed that it was something they did all the time when they hung out. i didn't have any way to refute this so I reluctantly sat down on the ground and joined in. though I was mostly worried about what my mother would be thinking if she knew this was how I was spending new year's morning, I admittedly found the situation pretty amusing. a few hours passed before we drove back out of the city in a run-down toyota that'd belonged to one of the guests. tmbg's "lincoln" was playing over the stereo as she passed the time by telling us about a road trip she'd taken to new orleans over the summer and how every time she stopped for gas she was scared she'd get lynched.

eventually, we made it back to my aunt's house, where i'd been staying for the duration of my visit to the states. me and my cousin walked in and I saw my parents sitting on the couch watching some flash-in-the-pan netflix drama that would probably be forgotten within 6 months. my mother looked up at me with a smile and asked me how the party was. i said it was fine.

I spent new year's eve 2023 getting high by myself.

My new EP "5149" has just released! Listen on BandCamp Now!

https://kinggunshot.bandcamp.com/album/5149

My new EP "Cock Box" has just been released on Bandcamp! Please give it a listen if you're interested.