“Either I’m chasing ghosts, or they’re chasing me, but I’ve never beat Pac-Man,” I told the girl standing next to me over the din of The Killers singing ‘Everything I’ve Done’. It was one of my favorite songs and I had picked it from the jukebox. I sang along: “I’ve got soul, but I’m not a soldier. I got bowls, but I’m not a bowler.”
I was the funniest man in the room and floating on a cloud of good cheer.
A neon blue Bud Light sign, pinned to the wood paneling, split into two through some blurry form of mitosis; and the two signs orbited around each other like snowflakes in a kaleidoscope. I watched it with curious wonder, knowing it was my brain and my eyes doing the magic trick, not the sign. The girl then split into two as well, and then one of the twin hotties split into a third, and then they were two again — and then none.
She had disappeared back into the ether of faces from whence she originated. I looked at my buddy, “What the fuck, man?”
Even though I was feeling like a twenty-dollar bill rolled up ready to go, I recognized the look on his face as disapproving. “You’re drunk, dude,” he told me.
“I know! What the fuck?!”