Free Hot Pink by Adam Levin Page A

the white plastic tip in your mouth so that the top of the ridge at the bottom of it is against the front of your teeth, you push the can into your face until the bottom of the ridge of the tip is against the top of the can, which means the silver metal tip goes inside the can as far as it can and then the butane comes blasting out into your throat. It’s cold and tastes a little bit sweet. You have to aim right and huff deeply, or else you get it on your tongue and it tastes fuzzy and bubbly and you have to gag a little bit. If you do it right, things change almost immediately. First, if you try to talk, your voice is very low, which I don’t know why, but I think it’s because the butane makes your voice box so cold and your voice box needs to be a little bit hot to form more high-pitched noises with the cords it has inside it. That’s not so important, but there’s a tradition around it. After you’re done with your turn huffing, you hand the can to the next guy and say something to show that your voice is frozen low. Since silence in your ears when you’re huffing isn’t silence but this really warm kind of wah wah wah that lasts till the inhalant wears off, what you usually say when you hand the can over is “Wah.” Franco went first and demonstrated. He said “Wah” to me, fell back into the couch, and gave me the can. I huffed it for longer than Franco, said “Wah” to Helio, fell back into the couch, and gave Helio the can. Helio let go of one of his shoulders to hold on to the can, but he only took a squirt of it, and I think he got the bubbles cause what he said was “Weh,” and it wasn’t so low.
    Next thing I knew, all the things were gigantic and all the nothings were tiny. I looked at Helio and he was so much bigger than the garage door, I couldn’t understand how he got into the garage without cutting some of himself off first. I thought that was funny, and then I noticed I was warm. I tried to put my hand on Helio’s shoulder to show him I was his friend and isn’t this cool, but it took so much strength to lift up my hand, cause it was not only gigantic, but dense. Everything was dense, even the nothings, and it felt like the couch was slowly moving backward. Franco was the densest and the most gigantic. Just one of his blue eyes was bigger than all of me. I almost said to him, “Franco, you have the biggest blue eye,” but right when I thought of it, the butane began to wear off and I thought that might have sounded really faggy. I tapped Helio on the shoulder, and he gave me the butane. I huffed the butane.
    â€œWahhh,” I said.
    â€œThat’s a boy,” Franco said. Then he huffed. Then I huffed. Then Helio did a little.
    â€œOh. Oh. Oh. Oh,” Franco said, and his gigantic hand was on my shoulder. His other hand was pointing. “Dad?” Franco said.
    â€œYour dad’s home?” I said. Then I saw. It was a gigantic dense guy who you could see through in some places. His mustache was the same as Franco’s, but less black and more thick. He had his hands in front of him, by his waist. His hands were moving around while his wrists stayed still. It seemed like he was either telling some great story, or he was listening to some boring story and saying, “Come on, already, get to the point, already,” except he wasn’t saying anything.
    â€œDad?” Franco said. “How are you, Dad? I love you, Dad.”
    â€œPleased to meet you,” I said. “This is really amazing. Do you mind if I ask you what’s it like in the world of pure spirit, Mr. Iafarte?”
    Franco told me, “His name’s Domenico.”
    â€œYou got different last names?”
    â€œIafarte’s my ma’s.”
    â€œYour ma’s?” I said.
    â€œYeah,” Franco said. “We changed it after the hospital. It was a pain in the ass.”
    â€œI’m sorry,” I