I don’t know how many hours we wasted in that room. Amidst the casual conversation were many hellos, goodbyes, and I’ll be right backs, while the phone rang constantly. The radio was always too loud. The cramped space was always too hot. The room reeked of cheap vodka and stale sweat. A dark cloud of cannabis and nicotine hung over our heads like grim death. The small kitchen table was littered with playing cards, spent roaches and dead soldiers, as we hovered above, planning … This is how it always began, a quick stop over to plan the evening’s activities. There was always so much to do, and the night was far too short. My heart was beating out of my chest. Stupid! Stupid! Stupid! I shouldn’t have let them talk me into it…like I really needed the push. More awake and alive than I have ever felt, and for no good reason, I reached for another screwdriver…Ten percent orange juice, ninety percent Mohawk. Someone cracked a window in the front room. Fresh air was what I needed to clear my head, and more alcohol to balance my buzz. Someone is sifting through vinyl records, someone is mixing drinks, and everyone is talking about where to go and what to do. Past the lava lamps and black light posters is a dimly lit aquarium. The water within is a light jade color. It is nearly opaque. Barely audible, short faint sucking sounds came from the top of the tank. Through the murky filth, between the spent cigarette butts and discarded food products, three tiny holes poked through the scum.

  They’re vicious little bastards, the owner told me as he stuck the end of an uncooked hot dog into the slimy water. The piranha attacked the processed meat product unenthusiastically, obviously more concerned with skimming oxygen from the top of the stagnant water. Someone flicked a cigarette into the tank. Someone threw a bottle cap. Someone tried to feed French fries to them. Someone tapped the glass. Awash in disrespect and debauchery, everyone talked about what we were going to do and where we were going to go…but first, we had to make another score. I just wanted to go and be done with it. I had my little experiment and was thankful that the alcohol was already making me a better person, but I wanted to leave while I could still see straight. They would have none of that. We couldn’t leave until we lined up another score. As I waited, my attention was drawn more and more to the filthy stinking fish tank. True, Piranha are despicable little creatures, but I couldn’t help but feel empathy for them.