Uranium Club with Pinnochio and Nandas

You’re being urgently, naughtily rushed up the tallest, steepest stairs you’ve ever climbed. Smile cautiously as the Uranium Club welcomes you into their stinky apartment. You’ve been here before, right? Oh, that must have been someone else. Do you have a brother or sister? One of the members mumbles some deceptively eloquent bullshit as he hands you a drink. His lips are dark red and chapped; he looks really bad. But the drink is wet, and those stairs had been tall. Sit down, lean back, sip it. There’s salt in it, some pulp, some pebbles. It rolls around your tongue, hides between your teeth, a perfectly TV-worthy combination of pleasure and mischief. Swallow it. But spit it out… Spit it out now! It’s supposed to go into your ears! How crazy is that?