Of Course Pt. 2

The first voice in my head came shortly after we took off form the House Party. It was that voice telling me to go home, that things were only going to get worse; either I was going to make an ass of myself or I was going to make an ass of myself in front of someone I don’t want to make an ass of myself in front of. There really was no way around it, except to get back to my small apartment and sweat the rest of this hellish experience out quietly, watch cartoons on DVD or something. But no, that other voice came in from the back door, smelling of cheap cigarettes and whiskey, polyester suits and Jheri Curl juice. This was the voice that visited me often back in the old days, this one got me into a lot of shit, but it was fun I must admit, at least at the time it was. There was always that next morning to contend with, dig? When the other (Good) voice would lament over whatever atrocity I’d gotten “us” into, asking why I’d decided to bring that particular girl back to our nice, decent apartment, knowing that it was going to be a bitch trying to get rid of her before the first cup of coffee, explaining that everything that I’d said was simple pillow talk; no strings, no guilt was my vibe at the time. My Evil Voice was all about it, where my Good Voice was left in the back, the door to my common sense area locked and bolted after the first pint. I’d just made 30 a couple of months prior to this night and the Common Sense Center hadn’t been built into Flynn’s Low Rent Brain Apartment Complex yet.

I won’t bore you with the conversation that went on in the car before we reached the warehouse party, simply because I can’t remember it completely. What I do remember is the pains of paranoia; the fear of prison, and the tightness of the noose. I was still concerned about the government satellite and how much information it had gotten from me before we got into the car. The shakes were running at top speed by the time we got to the place. Everything was a wavering haze, like being out in the desert, it was hot, I was sweating, and I was a wreck.
Bill grabbed my arm as we filed out of the car, keeping me going in one direction without failing, good ol’ Bill. Rick seemed to be doing better then before, not staring off into the sky for too long, and Marion was still going on about walking around the city, which we kept refusing to do. Once we hit the front gates of the warehouse, everything went from kindly weird to that David Fincher styled surreal where you can’t really tell what’s real or not, you just know that you have to get out. But I was in for the long haul, dropping out now would be a mistake, I would have to walk home, or find some poor fucker to drive me. Bill had to keep an eye on the other two, I split now and I’m alone in this, with that goddamn voice in my head for company. He said to keep going, and I did, straight on into the crowd outside the front gate.
Faces seemed too close to decipher who anyone was, different scents wafted through me and I felt ill. I could smell beer though and for some damn reason it gave me hope. I should have been put down but no one had a gun, just a goddamn keg.
We went through the crowd of tattered hipsters, slurping down plastic cups of Pabst, smoking cigarettes, looking cool in their corduroy, and cardigans; like death in a top hat and black leather hot pants.
We made our way to the back of the warehouse, there weren’t too many people around this part of the place, and most of them were up front watching a band play. It was loud and I couldn’t tell what kind of music it actually was, it could’ve been Polka music for all I knew.

A chick came over to us and began talking to Marion. I heard Marion say that she was on shrooms and wanted to take a walk around the block and they took off. Rick told Bill and me that he saw someone that he knew and away he went. Bill asked me if I wanted a beer and I said yes. He fought his way through the thick field of moptop plants and vanished into the thick. I was alone, leaning against a wall, sweating. I lit a cigarette of my own and tried to get my composure in line. The Evil Voice talking to me all the while:

‘That’s right son, light them shits up, there ya go. All the ladies will be here in a minute, just give it time, flash that sly smile like a Hellblazer baby, just a little bit though, don’t’ want to give off too much now, remember, we’re a bad muthafucka, and no one’s got nuthin on us man, we’re the shit, yeah dig it. Just be cool, okay check this shit, here comes a chick we know, I’m sure she’s single, she’s coming this way, play it cool baby, we’re going for a homer, knock it out the box baby, show em’ what ya got.’

I could here my Good Voice banging on the back door, trying to get out and save us, but it was locked tight, and Evil had the key.

This girl did indeed come over, her name was Farah, and I hadn’t seen her in a while. I could barely see her now.

“Hey Flynn,” She said, cocking her head slightly, looking up at me. “It’s been a while man, I wouldn’t have thought to see you here, I thought you didn’t go for warehouse parties anymore.”

I tried to come up with a decent response, from what I could make out she was kinda cute, but I still had the haze on me.

“Yeah well, ya know, people think cucumber taste better pickle.”
‘Oh snap, ya fuck up man!’ Evil screamed in my ear.
‘Where the hell did that come from?’ I said to Evil.
‘I don’t know man; just roll the dice, maybe you can make a saving through with a +2 in bullshit?’

“You’re so funny sometimes Flynn.” Farah said giggling.
“Yeah, must be the drugs.”
‘Oh damn, ya fucked up again son!’ Evil yelled.
‘Damn those saving throws!’ This I said out loud, yes, I said it and Farah heard me, yes, think what you will.

Farah got a queer look on her face and said that she just wanted to come over and say hello, nice seeing ya, etc etc. She walked off looking back once, and then made quicker steps to get away from the drugged up and goofy guy.

‘Great one Flynn, you just blew a shot with her, now we have to find someone else for the night.’ Evil said, seemingly disgusted.
‘I don’t think I can handle that right now.’
‘You’re not doing the thinking anymore son, leave it all to me.’

Bill came back with a couple of plastic cups. “It’s Pabst.” He said.
“Good, good.” I took a pull and it was cold going down and it soon made me feel a little better.

Bill and I stood around for a while rappin’ about this and that. Every now and again he’d get a look on his face which told me that I’d said something either incoherent or just plain dumb, and every time I told him to pay me no mind; “It’s the damn shrooms and this voice in my head, nothing to worry about.”
‘Fuck you jackass!’ Evil said. ‘I got feelings too bitch!’
‘Shut up!’ I yelled to Evil.
‘Oh, that’s it man, I’m sick of your shit, I’m kickin’ it up a notch!’

I soon felt to urge to down the rest of my beer and go for more. I told Bill that I’d be back with two more and made my way through the crowd of plaid shirts and cool haircuts.

Half way through I could see my destination in sight, but it was covered with ants, giant ones. They were dressed as most of the hipsters but with big heads and pincers. They were crawling over each other trying to get to the spout. It was sickening and decadent. They didn’t seem to notice or care that I was staring, they didn’t seem to notice me at all. I took a few steps closer to try and get a better look.
‘This is the damn shrooms doing this, that’s all. The kegs right in front of me, it’s just people.’ I thought.

‘Yeah right,’ Evil said, ‘unless you can get out of here, you’re in for it. You’ve peaked chump. There’s no turning back until you come down, good luck son, I’m out.’

And Evil was gone. It was just me, the shrooms, the keg and a bunch of giant ants trying to get a damn beer, and my cup was empty.

One of the giant ants stopped crawling for a second and gave a look in my direction, it crawled over some other ants and stood in front of me, I couldn’t tell what expression it was carrying, but it had teeth, I could see that, then it spoke:

“Hey man, what’s up?” It said, between the crowd and the band of giant ants on stage its voice seemed high pitched and nasally.

“Uh, not much.”

“You don’t remember me do you? I used to hang out at The Winchester, it’s been a while though, and didn’t you go out of town a while back?”

“Yeah, Texas, big state, big mistake. Listen, I gotta go.”

I turned away and found myself surrounded by a warehouse full of ants. I saw Rick on one side of the room talking to four ants in plaid shirts, Marion was chatting with a couple of ants wearing wigs and skirts, Bill was rappin’ with an ant in a black jacket, smoking a cigarette, like he was the hymenoptera gang leader, a rebel without and antennae. This was too much to take, I had to get out. I fought my way through the crowd of ants and pulled Bill away from Adam Ant and tried to make things as clear as possible:
“Dude, ants everywhere, on the keg, on the floor, wearing clothing, government conspiracy in the beer, we gotta get out of here or we’re next!”

“Flynn, you really gotta lay off the shrooms, man. Seriously, you’re fucked up.”

“Yeah, right, shrooms, listen, I’m going, giant ants, tell the others that I’m out.”

Right then, Rick and Marion came over and said that they both needed to leave, as it turned out, they were peaking as well.

“I wanna walk around on Colfax.” Marion said.

We made our way back to the car, Rick and Marion decided to sit on their balcony and watch the sun come up. I had no idea what time it was and opted to go straight to the sanctity of my apartment.

They dropped me off in front and I waved them off as I got my key in the door and ran up four flights into my flat. The room was breathing on it own and my wall posters were dancing and singing songs, but there were no satellites or giants ants so I didn’t mind. I lit a cigarette and put Coltrane on the Hi-Fi. It was some time before I finally came down, the sun was up and I’d gone through two packs of smokes and several glasses of water (only two beers were in the fridge). By the time I was ready to pass out I’ done enough thinking to conclude that my time with days of tripping were over. Squiggly lines and cartoon characters on the walls I can deal with, giant ants and government satellites I can’t, fuck that son. I’ll stick with grass, booze, caffeine, and nicotine.

Is there a moral to this?

Of course not.

There's a rendezvous of strangers around the coffee urn tonight.
 

Of course I'd like to sit around and chat, but someone's listening...

Over the weekend I went to the pub, nothing new, just the usual drinks and cigarettes, casual conversation with people here and there. Ran into this one cat I know and we somehow got on the topic of how we're too old to do hallucinogenic drugs (both of us being in our mid-30's), now sure, if I really wanted to I could hop back on that horse and ride off into the multi-colored sunset, find my power animal, and become more paranoid and mentally destitute than a Denver Cop with a loaded pistol. But (un?)fortunately, those days are over. Psychedelic drugs and I used to get a long well, we had a nice relationship that wasn't too demanding and if we didn't see each other for a couple of months, that was okay, there was never any hard feelings when we crossed paths again.

But one night it just wasn't in the cards for us to be together. For whatever reason my good buddy shrooms decided that this was going to be the last trip we take together and I was never going to forget it.

About four years ago on the 4th of July, I'd decided to take a handful with some friends, Rick and Marion, our other friend Bill opted out of the brain train ride since he was our driver for the night. There were a couple of parties to hit and we wanted to be good and jacked up for it. The first party we went to was at the drummer for a local neo-country bands' house, it was a big party, kids everywhere, booze, blue cigarette smoke and the occasional doper. By the time we arrived the shrooms had begun its assimilation of the senses, and the shakes came on like 4am television static, starting with a slow decline of the spinal cord into the deep cushion of the car seat. My legs had the tingle and gave a feeling of giddiness, but it didn't last for long.

On the way to the party the conversation had been lively, loud and full of good humor, in the twenty or so minutes that it took for us to reach the house things had changed. Rick became sullen, leaning his head against the window not talking, Marion was quiet as well, her head bowed as if praying to some unknown god of illegal substances, for what reason, I didn't know, she did speak occasionally though, but only in short bursts, and was unintelligible. Every now and then Bill would ask us all if we were doing alright, grunts and whistles were the only responses we could come up with. Marion made some statement about getting out of the car and walking to the party, Bill hit the power locks and checked to make sure her seat belt was locked.

Once we reached the first party house, Rick, Marion and I weren't in such good shape. I immediately went into the house, I needed a drink. My mouth was dry and I had a bit of nausea going, beer was the only answer. I got inside the house and another friend of mine was sitting in the living room with most of the lights off playing guitar, he was putting on a house show. People were everywhere, I couldn't find the keg, and everyone looked greasy, real greasy. It was hot and muggy and I thought I was going to pass out from sweating when Bill showed up with two cups of beer. I took one and slammed it down and began to feel a little better, but I was still sweating and the people surrounding me were still greasy. I needed to get outside.

Once back on the outside I found the cat who was throwing the party, we shook hands and I warned him of my intake of the night. "Don't worry man, so many people are drunk right now that you seem like you're sober." I couldn't tell at the time if that was a good thing or not.

He introduced me to a few people and one of them was the bass player of his band, they were in the same band as my buddy in the living room playing guitar in the dark with the greasy people. The bass player of the group was an odd kid; he told me that he was from Texas and was a little too excited to meet me. I got the feeling that some shit was going to go down and not feeling capable to properly defend myself, I began thinking of ways to make a cool exit. The Texan grabbed my arm and pulled me off to the side before I could make the great escape.

"Dude, I gotta tell ya sumptin!" he said in that drunken Texas drawl that gave me visions of white sheets and fire, ropes and tall trees.

"Oh yeah? well, ya gotta make it quick, the beer train is leaving soon and I gotta make time."

"What?"

"Nothing, what are you saying?"

"Dude, you're like the first black dude I've ever met man! And you're COOL!!"

"I gotta go, beer train."

"Right on man, good to meet you black dude!"

"Yeah, that's right!" And off I went.

In front of the party house I ran into my buddy who was playing guitar inside, I told him that his bass player was drunk and needed to stay away from black folks.

"Someone could get the wrong idea, we don't take Texas Ignorance too lightly, you understand yeah?"

He said that he did and gave me a beer for my trouble, it was Pabst, it was good.

I met up with Bill and Marion and they both looked frazzled, Marion for obvious reasons but I didn't know what was up with Bill. They asked me if I'd seen Rick, apparently he'd wandered off and had been gone for some time. I envied that bastard, if I had strayed off into the night I could have avoided the encounter with The Texan, I turned and looked behind me and he was giving me the eye. The Texan gave me the nod and tipped his beer to me.

Things were getting too strange for me.

Marion walked off saying that she was going to look for Rick. I finished off my beer, leaning back to get every drop out of the can. I still had the tingle and everything seemed brighter, but fuzzy, almost like a slight haze. I looked upward and the stars looked as if they were moving, one in particular was the brightest I'd ever seen. It was then that I became certain that it was a government satellite, gazing down on us all, getting names, addresses, shoe sizes, blood types and eyeglass prescriptions.

I grabbed Bill's arm and pulled him towards the nearest tree.

"Listen, there's a satellite looking down on us, we gotta jet, this ain't right, I'm sure they know the last time I bought condoms, premarital sex man, the government's not with that man, gotta jet, gotta jet now!"

"Be cool man, everything's fine." Bill was always one to be optimistic about shit.

"As soon as we find Rick we can split, dig?"

"Whatever man, that damn thing is looking, I gotta jet right goddamn now, satellite lasers man, Star Wars, Reagan era space tech, they think we're hippies, we're fuckin doomed! Where's the car?"

"Chill man, we'll get in the car and drive around the block until we find Rick and Marion. You good with that?"

"Sure, sure. But we gotta do this fast, look the damn thing just moved!"

We made a break for the car and found Rick and Marion sitting on the curb next to it. Rick was staring off into space and Marion was smoking a cigarette, staring at the smoke and running her fingers through it.

"We gotta go man," I said to Rick. "Star Wars and Reagan, they found us man, satellites, they know the last time you had sex, I'm out."

Rick got up immediately.

"Fuck that!" He said and pulled Marion up from the curb, then we piled into the car and took off into the night, off to the warehouse party. And I had yet to reach the peak of the shrooms.

To be continued...

Opening sooner than you think.