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...