blend in with the shadows of the night. Just another average joe going about his business, nothing special about me, folks. Part of me wanted so badly to believe it, I wished to God that I’d never heard of the Eye of Aeons, that I coulda just looked at Clarice Hudson and thought
For a second, I even cursed the day I’d ever taken up my little stay of residence in Ocean’s head. In that moment, with all those nighttime people stumbling along sidewalks and hailing cabs, laughing and practically undressing one another on the corners… in that moment, I just wanted to be like them.
Then I got this kinda sinking feeling in my bowels and I felt like I’d taken everything that poor girl had ever been through and flushed it down the crapper. I mean, I kinda brought this whole dimensional instability thing on myself, right? I went searchin’ for something exactly like what I got. But Ocean? She never asked for this shit, man. She never
Yet here I was, pissin’ and moanin’ because I was scared, because I was confused and didn’t know what to do anymore. It wasn’t right. It wasn’t right at all. Clarice fuckin’ Hudson, and others like her, were out there condemning this poor girl to a lifetime of torment. And I just wanted to forget it all, to pretend like I didn’t know what was loomin’ just over that dark horizon we call the future? Fuck me, man.
By the time I got home I was good and ready for a long slow kiss from the bong, if ya know what I mean. I just wanted to ease back into my skin, to gain a little perspective for a while. ‘Cause, like I said earlier, I was in something of a pickle, ya know? That little slattern routine at Blue Moon really threw a kink into things. Fouled shit up bad. So hell yeah I wanted a buzz, man. Wanted one worse than I ever have in my life.
Problem was I couldn’t find my stash, see? I mean, I’ll admit that I’m not the greatest housekeeper in the world. I’ve got dishes piling up in the sink, four bags of garbage clustered ‘round a trashcan that looks like a landfill, piles of clothes all over the fuckin’ place. Empty beer bottles that belch out clouds of gnats if you’re stupid enough to pick one up… But I always knew where my bag was, man, top right hand drawer of the dresser, tucked away in this wooden box that’s got all these vines and shit carved into the wood. But not this time, man.
I dumped that box across my bed as if I really thought maybe my half ounce might be hidin’ beneath the rolling papers or that little baggie that has all the screens in it. Lots of receipts in the box, lots of old letters I’d started to write but never actually got around to sending, but not so much as a stem or even a seed.
Maybe I
Now I got my connections but most of ‘em are honest, hardworking guys who just sling a little herb to supplement their sorry excuse for a paycheck, ya know? They got wives, kids, the whole nine to five routine. I can’t just call them up at one o’ fuckin’ clock in the morning and ask if they could spot me a thirty. That’s not cool, man.
But there’s this one cat I know… we’ll call him Steel, okay? Because he’s fuckin’
So I only deal with Steel in emergency situations, ya know?
Has to be pretty dire shit before I hook up with the likes of him. As fate would have it, as they say, I didn’t really see that I had much choice in this situation. As long as you got the bread, you could call this dude. He’d leave his mother’s funeral to deliver the goods.
So that’s exactly what I fuckin’ did. I called up Steel and within the hour he’s sittin’ on my ratty little couch with this fat sack and at that point I just want to be alone. I just wanna smoke up, turn things over in my head, and try to figure shit out.
But there’s a certain etiquette that comes with a pot deal, ya know? I mean, you’re expected to burn one with the same fucker who just
Anyhow, we suck down a bowl or two and I’m thinkin’ that the dude will leave now. But for some reason, and why I don’t know, he’s just wantin’ to hang out for a while. He’s got his head leaning back, lookin’ up at the water stains on the ceiling, and he’s talking about this bitch he fucked up because she was screwin’ around on him. And I start getting this idea, right?
I tell the dude I can dig exactly where he’s comin’ from ‘cause I suspect my lady’s been getting a little on the side, too. I’m actin’ all pissed about it, or at least as pissed as you can get when you’re head’s all swirlin’ in a cloud of herb.
“Shit, man,” he says. “Just get rid of the whore.”
And he ain’t talkin’ about breaking up with her, either. He goes into all this detail about how you can take an oil filter from a car and turn it into a ghetto silencer. Telling me how it can be modified to muffle all the expanding gas when that trigger is pulled. He says it only takes a little bit of work and lays it all out there in the open, how you gotta make sure there’s no brackets or fixtures at the top end that could fuck with the bullet, how you can fill the filter with water and then drain it to further baffle the shot, all the shit you need to build the damn thing.
But me? I tell him I want to be sure first, and he’s kinda lookin’ at me like I’m a big pussy, but I got this dude’s number, see? I know what motivates him. There ain’t nothin’ this cat wouldn’t do for a few greenbacks. Meth, junk, coke… he’d sell ‘em to a preschooler if the cash was there, man.
So I tell him how if I knew for certain, I’d make her sorry she ever spread for anyone but me. I’m layin’ it on thick, too. Talkin’ about how I thought about hiring a PI to tail the broad but I was worried a gumshoe might put two and two together if she should
“Shit, homes,” Steel says. “I’ll hook you up, man. I’ll get some dudes on that bitch and if she’s puttin’ out you’ll fuckin’
So there it is, man, you can beat two birds in the bush with the one in your hand or some shit like that. Not only did I end up with some pretty primo stash, but I solved my little problem about our dearly infected Ms Hudson…
The next few days were pretty much business as usual, ya know? I went to the REC site, put in my required hours, smoked a
It was always there in the back of my mind, every time there was a knock on the door, I’d get this nervous little feeling in my stomach, wondering if it was Steel with his report. Phone goes off and I’ve got it answered before it’s even had a chance to finish the ringtone. And I’m tryin’ to keep myself busy, ya know? Trying to find ways to pass the time.
I make a trip to the hardware store, pick me some different sizes of flex couplings and PVC bushings, and then skirt on over to Pronto Auto for a selection of oil filters. Why so many? ‘Cause I didn’t trust myself to get it right the first time, man. Which is kinda funny, really. You give a stoner the right tools and he can build
So anyways, eventually Steel does show up and he’s got this little smirk on his face. He glances down at all the oil filters on my coffee table and kind of nods the same way someone else might if they were appreciating a piece of art that happened to be layin’ there. “Hate to tell ya this, homes, but your bitch? Certifiable whore, man. Hell, that cunt puts out so much you could probably drive a Mac truck up her pussy and still have room for clearance.”
Only he wasn’t sorry to tell me. I could tell by that little gleam in his eyes.
“Mean as hell, too. Shit, man, I saw her lay into this dude down at that shopping center near East Lamont?