My idea of a leave would of course be staying in my room watching snuff porn for two weeks straight, but luckily Smirketh and Enjh saved me from porn OD-ing and hauled me to Sonya’s Garden. I’ve heard that this place has some zen feel to it–I don’t even know what zen really means, it just brings up images of flowers, incense, candles, that stuff–hence the following questions from me to Smirketh and Enjh as Smirketh was driving away: Are we required to wear white robes all day? Will there be zen music with parapalooshka and sitar playing all day? Will everything smell of incense? Huh? Huh?
The place would have none of that stuff, they said. Which begged the other end of the spectrum questions: Will there be a mirror on the ceiling? Will there be stirrups at the foot of the toilet bowl? Will there be a general kinkiness feel to the place?
“Will this be your first time there?” Enjh asked back.
“You can drag me anywhere and it would be my first time there,” I said.
The place looked like there would be a white lady at every turn, at one point I almost woke Smirketh up so she could accompany me to the bathroom. There was this huge mirror in the bathroom (not attached to the ceiling) which of course is a portal for wraiths, ghosts, white ladies, and other demonic stuff. I claimed that the place looked eerily familiar, as if I’ve seen it as the setting of White Lady Deepthroaters Part 4: The Gangbang, but Smoketh reprimanded me and told me to behave and that I should try to be one with nature or some Jungian stuff like that. I initially decided to go WOLT (without laptop), thinking it would be against the spirit of solitude and stuff, but good thing I didn’t, because by 10pm there was absolutely nothing to do, Enjh was asleep as asleep could be, and Smirketh was watching some Lloydie movie. Eventually the running water from the fountain dragged me to sleep, which was great, except that the whole time I was dreaming of floating on a beach, interjected by the constant desire to pee. The entire place has that over-all nostalgia feel to it, and in a heart-rending moment I told Smirketh: Look at that bed, Smirketh. Imagine its history. All the stories, all the lives that this bed could tell. My point is, just imagine, Smirketh, how many people, through the years, have fucked on it.
The dinner and breakfast were great, but the highlight of the place would have to be the huge bathroom where Enjh could sit on the rocking chair reading The Guy Not Taken, while Smirketh was taking a bath, while I was taking crap, all at the same time, which did not really happen, but the bathroom was indeed a multi-disciplinary conference hall. The downside would have to be if you take a crap, the smell of the crap would waft into the room through the open space atop the bathroom door which no amount of roses everywhere could stifle.
Because yes, there were flowers on the floor of the bathroom, because there were flowers everywhere: in the sink, on the mangoes, on the stairs, in the supot with the take-out lettuce, everywhere. Smirketh only needed to place one on her right ear, play Jasmine Trias, and sing, all together now… Inseparable.
…which she could sing in a duet with….
Indeed there were so many damn flowers the first thing I did upon reaching home was watch Batman: The Animated Series to see exploding– EXPLODING!!!- buildings.