Izzy Stradlin was thinking about Duff McKagan again. Duff was a hopeless giant with tall legs and brown eyes.
Izzy walked over to the window and reflected on his chilly surroundings. He had always hated grey Athens with its mutated, motionless mountains. It was a place that encouraged his tendency to feel sleepy.
Then he saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the hopeless figure of Duff McKagan.
Izzy gulped. He glanced at his own reflection. He was a depressed, witchin, beer drinker with black hair and bloodshot eyes. His friends saw him as a shredded, scrawny saint. Once, he had even helped a mysterious injured bird recover from a flying accident.
But not even a depressed person who had once helped a mysterious injured bird recover from a flying accident, was prepared for what Duff had in store today.
The wind blew like running dogs, making Izzy worried. Izzy grabbed a tiny blade that had been strewn nearby; he massaged it with his fingers.
As Izzy stepped outside and Duff came closer, he could see the wasteful glint in his eye.
"Look Izzy," growled Duff, with a tired glare that reminded Izzy of hopeless frogs. "It's not that I don't love you, but I want love. You owe me 6991 dollars."
Izzy looked back, even more worried and still fingering the tiny blade. "Duff, I'm depressed," he replied.
They looked at each other with ambivalent feelings, like two bloody, bewildered bears laughing at a very understanding Valentine's meal, which had metal music playing in the background and two modest uncles cooking to the beat.
Izzy regarded Duff's tall legs and brown eyes. "I don't have the funds ..." he lied.
Duff glared. "Do you want me to shove that tiny blade where the sun don't shine?"
Izzy promptly remembered his depressed and witchin values. "Actually, I do have the funds," he admitted. He reached into his pockets. "Here's what I owe you."
Duff looked lonely, his wallet blushing like a beautiful, broken banana.
Then Duff came inside for a nice drink of beer.
That was three months ago. Now Izzy was on a plane to LA with Duff. Things were moving pretty fast. Izzy felt the need to cry every now and again, which was strange for the raven-haired man. Why were things moving way too fast, you ask? Within their first night together, they shared a line of coke, slept together, and cuddled. Izzy was a take-it-slow kinda guy. Duff on the other hand, was not. Not in any means. Sleeping together on the first night? That was absurd. But Izzy dealt with it.
“I love you my friendly giraffe.” Izzy idolized.
“I love you too, my little ant.” Duff admired back.
