--Gonzo.

So the year was 2003 and some odd date or so, at least I think it was, something like that. And there I was with my Indian friend, as we sat on the couch stoned off our ***** and pretty much well ****ed up. The 24-pack of beer sitting at my side and bowl in my mouth, joint in his, this wasn't very good weed and the alcohol wasn't my choice, I guess Indians drink light. Here we sat trying to figure out a way that we could make money out of the money we already had, and it hit us, right about at the same time the beer took over the high...we should see this ****! Yeah, it was an epiphany of sorts, all too misguided and lost but a epiphany none-the-less.

I guess this is where it started, where I decided I would get into the business and learn as much as I could in as little time as possible. And my guide? A 6'3” Indian, good man, but I was probably better off keeping the finances to myself I thought. So we left the house that I lived in for approximately six months and headed off to his reservation, well, he lived in a house in the northside of town, but I called it a reservation. It started the day after that, I trusted him with 250 dollars of my cash to get us a quarter pound of marijuana.

After about an hour or so he came bursting through the door with a grin on his glowing face the size of one of those exaggerated smiles on a snow man, and he was laughing, “you already smoked some, didn't you?” I asked him, “of course I did, have to test the product!” Well, that made sense, so I figured I should test it as well. So we sat down in his basement on the couch, a comfy couch, but ugly as hell, and we lit up the bowl on a water bong that we made out of a 2-litre cola bottle...and I was stoned, first hit, this was much better **** than what I was used to smoking. So we spent most of the day loading the bong, the pipe, rolling joints, and one blunt later we decided to make our first deal. He made a few phone calls before one hit, I was new to this so obviously I didn't have the network the Indian did, and we were off to meet the contact at his house just up the street.

We arrived probably about an hour after we left, we stopped behind an abandon house and smoked another bowl. He knocked on the door and the introduction was made, “this is my homie, he is cool, don't worry!” Well, as long as it works, right? We both entered the house almost simultaneously and headed into the basement where we loaded another bowl up and blazed with our new found business partner. After that bowl was finished we ended up bagging up a half ounce for him for 40 dollars, being new to the game and new to the customer I thought it was right to cut 10 dollars off full price.

At about the same moment I handed him the sack of weed we heard what sounded like a loud and thunderous crash come from upstairs followed by a long and obviously painful moan. I looked over at the Indian and he looked at me, as we nervously stared at each other some lady shouted from the top of the stairs, “call an ambulance, he hurt his leg!” 'Oh ****' I remember thinking, 'ambulance, that means cops!' I looked at the Indian and said, “doesn't an ambulance mean the cops are coming too? I have an ounce of weed in my pocket, man, should we go?!” He had a short discussion with the customer that went something along the lines of exactly what I asked him and looked at me and said, “let's go.”

We were escorted out by the customer who told us 'thanks!' About two or three houses away and a sheriff vehicle roared past with his cherries and berries lit up, “holy ****, man!” I remember saying, “I'm so high right now” followed by hysterical laughter, I'm sure if anyone was paying attention they would have thought something along the lines of 'what the ****?!' We spent pretty much the entire walk laughing our ***** off and conversing about 'what could have' happened and 'what if' so on and so forth. We made it to the house probably about five or so minutes after we left the customers house, needless to say we didn't stop anywhere to get high.

Wait for it...here it comes... Oh boy! Just wait till til' I wrap my brain around this gonzo-ness! Wait for furthur transmission.......

"In the future the sanity rations WILL come in sardine cans that don't have a key."

Do you know why I know this? Cuz' I saw the aftermath of the new math. I DID crack and dive...and I DID see the hidden agenda.

THIS write though has nothing to do with that. This is a crazy little story about the un-expected that has the potential to bite yr ***. Nothing ruder than ODing in some body's bathroom and turning blue while people scramble to hide their dope. But I suspect breaking yr leg during a pot deal can be considered almost as rude.

Nice write, man!

It's just a start, and this actually happened the first time in...comical vengence.

This is just the start, man! Trust me, it gets crazier as the story progresses!

Cheers for the comment, friend, always appreciated.

Check yr FB status, man. I posted a link for ya' I know you'll appreciate.

Can't wait to read more, man! (NOT mormon...more, man.....)

Jim Carroll!

I enjoyed this, thanks.

I like it, in the spirit of the road.

Dig it, Fear. Can't wait to read more, friend.
Cheers!

Mr.Fear...

The journey is worth writing more than anything. Can't wait to see the rest



*in evil voice* "Tell me yours and I'll tell you miiiiiiiinnnnne" *muahahaha*

Thanks for the comments everyone! Still working on chapter one, would like to get it done before weeks end but probably won't be ready until next week.

--Jesus Christ, man, it is eight in the morning!

We crashed out at about three in the morning...and exactly five hours later the Indian comes storming into the room yelling “wake up! My girlfriend is coming over, we need to clean up!” Oh for **** sake, we could have done this the night before and I could continue sleeping, I'm not quite sure why his girlfriend showed up as a surprise but I had my theories. So I rolled off the couch and started picking up joint papers, bongs, pipes, bags of weed, and a butter knife. At about 10 we received a call from someone who was looking for some weed, figuring the Indian's girlfriend was on her way I was on my own...my first drug deal and I don't even have a ****ing coach!

I walked out of the house at about 10:30 and headed to my destination, some friends that I knew from school wanted a quarter, so before I left I bagged it up and placed it in my pocket next to a twenty sack...I never left without a twenty sack on me just in case. Halfway through the walk the 'just in case' came up and I ducked behind the houses onto the train tracks and stuffed a bowl and fired it up. Ah, that's better!

I arrived at their hosue at about 12 or so, and they were wondering what took me so long...so I created an elaborate story of how I had to run all the way south from a bigfoot and take th bus back, thye laughed at me and we loaded up another bowl. About thre quarters of the way through the bowl and her mum ended up coming home from wherever the hell she was...this caused widespread panic amongst the room, 'oh ****!' and '****' were heard repeatedly. I was high, so I didn't really care, but she told me I had to run out the back and jump the fence, '****' I thought...just my luck that my first deal I would have to run from. She hurried me the money and I threw the bag at her before jumping out the back door and heading over the fence.

About an hour later I arrived back at the house high, because, well...I wasn't going to jump a fence and not get high! Loe and behold his girlfriend was still there, and he saw me high as hell...'stay outside!' Oh, what the ****?! Fine, so I loaded another bowl in the shed out back and started smoking. About halfway through that bowl his girlfriend came out back to tell me goodbye, '****' I thought, I need to get rid of this...so I shoved the lit bowl in my pocket in quick fashion to hide it. She came out and saw me in the shed, “what are you doing in there?”...****...”I was checking out the bugs...” Well, that worked, she laughed at me and told me I was weird all the while I had a bowl that was still burning in my pocket and my hand that was covering it so the smoke wouldn't start seaping out of my pocket. She left in her car and I pulled the pipe out of my pocket and through it in the grass, “****er is hot! Goddammit Indian, why didn't you just escort her to her car?!” Oh, this should be good...”She wanted to say bye to you.” ****ing Indian.

We went back into the house and lit up another bowl in the basement, I remember saying something like “this is why the white men took your land, Goddamn Indian!” And he came back with, “you're just jealous that we take your money at the casino!” This was typical for us, we were both solid punks, and we just went back and forth in a racial manner jokingly...”Low blow, Indian, low blow!”

After about of an hour of smoking we got another call from someone looking for a half ounce, this was one of the Indian's contacts so he had to come with me. We smoked another bowl for the road and left the house at about four in the afternoon, ducked into a cave like thing for crossing the busy road and smoked another bowl. We came out right at the police station, and I remember saying “what the ****, man?! We just smoked a bowl next to a ****ing police station?!” and he replied, “yeah, don't worry, bro, I do it all of the time...you can practically smoke right in front of the police station!” Well, okay, I thought, as long as he did this before and knew the area...which he did. We arrived at this girls house at about five-thirty and exchanged pleasantries and we were off to her room. She asked me if I liked punk or ska, well, of course I replied to her so she put on some Sublime and we proceeded to roll up a joint to smoke. After the joint was smoked her dad came home, I remember looking at the Indian and saying something like 'what do we do, man?!' He told me not to worry about, I guess her dad was right along with what we did and was more than likely high himself...so I figured we should get the guy high as well!

We headed out to his shed in the backyard and he promptly told us to put our **** away, so we did, and he pulled out a brick of weed that had all kinds of multicolored hairs on it...oh, I thought, this **** will be good! He popped some into a fancy pipe that was also multicolored and wood and lit it up, as soon as the smoke hit the air I knew this was some damn good ****! Eventually the bowl was passed around to me and I took my share, a very large hit, and held it in...after exhaling the smoke I realized that I was straight ****ed up beyond any repair. We went back into the house and exchanged money and weed and told her to call anytime she needed any because we would always be holding, she told us that would be great because I guess she didn't have a very good contact for weed.

After all of that we headed back to the Indian reservation and smoked a bowl in the tunnel again before popping out on his street, obviously we were baked as hell here so we decided we would go get some food over at the taco place nearby. We walked in probably smelling of weed and undoubetdly acting high as hell. We each ordered our food and proceeded to sit down and eat, about 15 minutes into the meal another one of the Indian's friends came up and told him 'hello' and said the same to me. They exchanged numbers and we were off, little did I know that later on this same guy would be trading us coke for weed and I would be introduced to cocaine. This road was already becoming all twisted like, but I was enjoying the ride...when we arrived at the reservation we loaded up the bong and blazed another bowl before drinking ourselves into a coma.

(still don't love ya though)

Thanks, kc...I'll keep trying to get you to love me.

COOL READ IN DEED!!!!!

Thanks, Terry. Kind of sucks though because it is all off memory, really wish I would have kept a journal back then.

Enjoying it as always, man. Makes me think of simpler, higher times.
I must say, though, in a way it's kinda cool not to have any journals or records. Leaves it up to the imagination to remember.

Can't wait to read more!

The imagination remembering wouldn't be so bad if I wasn't practically high off my *** at every single point in the story.

Cheers, friend!