Ecstasy affects your judgement 2 - Prostitutes ahoy!
On the theme of prostitutes and my mate Slim, another story sprung to mind. My role in this was relatively peripheral, but it bears recounting.

It was a usual evening; we had been out, got trashed and were continuing the process at home.The group of us, totalling about 8, were sitting in the living room; tunes blasting out, playstation being caned, beers being drunk, a bag of pills on the table and people smoking, chopping out lines, inhaling pipes and generally adding to the low-lit, warm, fuzzy, smoke wreathed atmosphere.

Naturally, conversation was flowing, and we covered all manner of topics: from mundane topics such as clubs through to somewhat more esoteric material, including girls, fucking and whores; I'm certain that we may have recounted the above story, laughing enormously...

At this point Slim got to his feet, said loudly and clearly "I'm going for a piss" and staggered out of the room.

About four hours later we began to wonder where Slim had got to; none of us had seen/thought of him for some time and we began to wonder what had happened. As we pieced together the events leading to his disappearance we concluded we should go and look for him.

Shortly after this search had commenced (his phone was switched off) he came in through the front door looking sheepish, red in the face, sweating profusely and with his eyes rolling. Thinking he may have scored some crack, we fell upon him with queries as to his health, offering drink and generally being solicitous and trying to get him to share.

He hadn't scored, but unusually he remained tight lipped; saying nothing and trying to change the subject. I disappeared into the kitchen with Niall, and a plan was born; we'd drug the truth out of him.

I racked up a load of monster lines of coke, but cunningly substituted one for ketamine. The result was 7 people buzzing, chatting and focussed on geting the truth v Slim, fucked out of his brain and experiencing a different reality.

The truth came out, and it was better than we could ever possibly have hoped for...

Our talk of whores had reignited his desire for paid-for skanklove. He'd gone to the toilet, where the idea had continued to gnaw away at him, and had stolen Ben's car keys, and subsequently his car, having decided to trawl the red light district. He drove around for an hour, many times the limit and clearly drugged (bless him, he never had any ability for concealing the state he was in). He had found a whore, and asked politely how much she'd charge to suck him off. She said twenty quid, and he unfolded the cash from his pocket. She then told him that she needed to give the cash to her pimp before she did the deed.

Slim said OK.

Then the obvious happened. She fucked off with the dosh. He spent two hours searching for her off his head, in a stolen car, in a red light district! As you'd expect, he didn't find her and eventually returned home.

We understood why he hadn't told us, and gently mocked him for many months.
( disasterprone "Pyjamas caused the Holocaust", Thu 16 Sep 2010, 14:00, Reply)