The disco. We go to disco. My body's sweaty from the MDMA inside it. I like to dance with you. You grab my ponytail. It is greasy with Germanic juices that I put inside my hair. Disco, we are the disco. I have a mesh shirt. My leather pants show off my sausage inside it. I grind your body, then we eat ecstasy and have Special K inside of the bathroom. It's a men's bathroom, but no one cares that you come inside because they know that inside it we do lots of drugs. And I will share them if the bouncer lets me go into the bathroom with you, and then we go home. We have efficient sex. And then I realize you're not that hot anymore because I've blown a load and I don't have ecstasy inside of my bloodstream. So I make sandwich. It has hazelnuts, bread, and some jelly that I got from the supermarket. It tastes pretty good, but it probably tastes better because my taste buds have ecstasy inside them. And then I go up to the bathroom, and you're wearing one of my shirts; that isn't cool. You didn't even ask. I met you earlier the evening; you're not my girlfriend, you're just girl that I have sex with. We probably won't do this again because I realize that your hair is frazzled and it probably has extensions. It's not your real hair, and that's kind of gross 'cause who knows where it came from.