i woke up and reached into my pants pocket…the pants had been splayed across the floor in a pattern that reminded me of some sort of double helix. when i pulled my cigarettes out of the pocket i noticed that my knuckle hadnt scraped across the grip of the knife as it usually does. this worried me…i couldnt remember events from the past evening nor could i remember pulling my knife off its trusty hold on the rim of my pocket.
later in the day when i got to my car i saw my knife lying on the floor mat on the passenger side…open…covered in sticky, shiney, black tar…i called my friend and he seemed to have no idea what the tar could have been…
i still dont know what it was…but its still on there. and it wont come off…so now when i use it to cut my cuticles i am left with black smudges. i need a good solvent…or maybe i just need to make solvent hash.
hmmm.