It was Simmons.
"What's goin' on, man?"
"I've got some Donald Duck, dude. Wanna go see Star Wars for a buck at Leohman's ?"
"Go see...wait...Donald Duck?" I said.
"It's blotter, dude. I got some..."
"Yeah, yeah, I know what it is," I said. I had never done acid before, but I knew the lexicon. Just needed some context. "Umm...Star Wars? I thought they were showing 2001: A Space Oddysey."
"No, dude, Star fuckin' Wars! Huh huh huh. C'mon, let's go! My mom'll drive." Star Wars had come out three years prior.
"Nah, dude," I demurred, "I gotta wash the fuckin' van today. I can't get out of it."
"All right, loser. Have fun," he said. Later."
"Later."
I walked the yellow receiver back to the kitchen, untangling fifteen feet of boinging spiral cord from the basement stairs, and clacked it onto the wall, averting my eyes from Mom's scrutiny.
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