King of the Swingers
When I first came here, my senses were numb, but I felt them start to come back to life brick by brick, and it all started when I was invited to a party. Now you know already that I love to fucking party, but this one was something else entirely.
It started with the usual – you know, the drinks, loud music, bright lights. But at some point everyone at the party ended up around the dining table, with a bowl in the centre. Suddenly everyone else threw their keys in the bowl. I didn’t have a fucking clue what was happening so I threw mine in too.
That was the night I learned about fucking SWINGING. See what happened next – and I’m sure the humans already know – is that everyone put their hands in the bowl and picked out a set of keys, and the owner of the key was the one they went into some side room and fucked into ecstacy.
I found it funny how the car those people drove seemed to match them perfectly. You had a righteous couple, with matching his-and-hers Fiat Puntos, each with the fucking Jesus fish sticker on the bumper. Fucking nobody wants those. One of the guys – I got on with him well – he had this DeLorean modelled on the one from Back To The Future. A fun car no doubt, but it’s rather niche. There was a guy who was maybe on ‘roids, who kept getting angry at fucking nothing, he had a souped up car with spikes down the hood – looked fucking cool but I wouldn’t want to be near it for fear of being impaled.
There were also a couple of fucking jokers who turned up without cars or keys and who just wanted in on the action. Some punk who liked writing in his special notebook and his fucking frenemy who seemed to be behind every door I opened.
But the car they all wanted was the smoking hot sports car with flames painted down the side. Fuck me I’ve never felt so alive as when the owner put their foot down and I heard that engine purr. And I made the owner purr too when I picked out their key.
Some would call it luck but I called it fate. This week I’m sat around the table once again with a bunch of reprobates and we’ll take it in turns to swirl around the keys and pick them out in order. I’ve been happy with my lot until now – my solid, safe, Honda CR-V – looks the part and acts the part too; but I’m due an upgrade. And boy do I feel that sports car calling to me again.
I got lucky that night, and I already know that I’ll be getting lucky again. That top of the range sports car will be mine by the end of the night, the owner having been royally fucked once again, and the rest of them can fight over the leftover keys while I drive into the night, crowned king of the fucking swingers.
Let’s do it now, and do it loud!