Black Bears on Crack
lost in a fog of cigarette smoke and wired on mountain dew, I'd sit here pecking away at these keys, randomly, without a plan like a chicken on crack with its head cut off. blood shoots from the top of me shoulders like a crimson volcano.yes, chicken little, the sky has fallen.
fresh from the mountains, where I'd stayed with franciscan monks, I'd am a renewed man full of piss and vinegar. where do these crazy sayings come from, piss and vinegar indeed. prayer and meditation above saran ac lake.
I'd had this vision, meditating, that I'd was looking out my window at the sky. it was a darker, summer blue as opposed to the winter's lighter tone. this box of bright light filled my vision, and from it , a bloody hand emerged. it reached towards me and I'd shook it. what does it all mean? I'd have no idea. the one is it was the most famously broken handed man in the known universe personally reaching to say hell.
man, I'd don't know really your guess is as good as mine. so what's your interpretation? anyway, I'd heard some great rehab stories that I'd'd love to share.
first, the insanity of addiction,continued. I'd don't know how true this is , but the bizarre-ness(is that a word?bizarre-ness?) of it was good enough for me to listen.
my friend, bill, a crack head, told me about a female he knew that had come across a bunch of money in a settlement of some kind or other, could have been an inheritance for all I'd know. but, anyway, she was a BIG-TIME smoker, all day all nights she stuffed that glass cock and sucked on it for all she was worth. funny thing about crack. you can smoke it for a good seven days without any real side effects, that are noticeable anyway. but, on the eighth day, every time you take a hit, the stem takes a hit. smoking you up. your cheeks get sunken and then the weight just melts off like butter in the kitchen on the table in the summer time. eventually you end up smoking your soul,piece by ever-loving piece, until you are a walking stem, all you need is a big blackened piece of chore-boy in the end of your mouth and a lighter.
this woman would smoke from the moment she took her head off the pillow , until she passed out from sheer exhaustion however many days later.but before she would pass out, she'd piss an a bowl. when she awoke from her vampiric slumber, she would scrape the sides of the bowl to get her morning blast off!she was smoking her piss! that was so saturated with the little white devil in a bottle that she got high! now if that is not the most horrific story of a crack smoker, then, man, I'd don't know shit from shinola!the horror of that insanity. how does one even stumble across figuring something like that out. that human animal will never cease to amaze me.somewhere in a different time-space continuum some alien life-force is watching this woman in absolute terror and awe.
speaking of which, terror and awe, that is. I'd was on the way back to the monastery coming from an NA meeting. I'd was talking to a buddy of mine named steve. steve was running from the city-the city NYC- picking up crack. he would sell some so he could smoke the rest for free.
his father had a cabin in the woods up in odgensburg, which is near watertown and canada and all that. springtime in the top of new york state. he took his car down the muddy trail that led to his fathers' cabin where he planned to smoke a few hits of crack by himself. he had four ounces stashed in the door of his car and an eight-ball(that's 3 1/2 grams to you non-addicts) in his pocket. well, it was a little less than that by now, for he had taken a few hits on the way home to stay awake. not enough to get high , just enough to keep from crashing the car.
he kept the car to the right along the edge of the remaining snow so that he wouldn't get stuck in the mud. the sun was beginning to peak its massive fiery head up over the horizon so steve parked so that he could watch it come up. even though steve had partied til the sun come up on countless occasions, he hadn't;'t watched the sun actually come up in a long,long time.
he pulled out his charlie daniels cd popped it in the player and busted off a chunk the size of the tip of his thumb. easily a gram. his carefully fished his rusty razor blade from the glove compartment, this thing had seen more coke the last two years than most people seen in a .he cut the chunk into four even pieces-bell ringers, they're called.when you get a good blast some people hear bells ringing others, whistles.
he pulled out his pipe and stuffed one of the phone calls from saturn into the blackened business end of the stem. he lit his trusty, brand new black Djeep lighter tickling the white sheetrock looking piece with the butane feather until it looked like melted candle wax. he exhaled all of the air in his lungs and put the stem into his mouth and began sucking the poisonous white fog into his ever ready and waiting lungs, "as the band of demons joined in and it sounded something like this" sang charlie daniels.
steve took the toxic narcotic down deep into his lungs and waited to feel the rush before he blew out the smoke.his face light up from the suns' first rays upon the new day and he smiled. " good morning to you too." as a smile crept over his face. as the intoxicating rush took its devastating effect on steve's mind and body, he began to hear noises outside his car. the tree people already? he thought. coke abusers get this hallucination that there are people in the trees waiting for them, usually the cops, just lying in wait ready to ambush the insane fucks.
steve looked over to his right, to the source of leaves rustli8ng and snorting, " holy fucking shit" was about all he could intelligently muster. the shoulders and head of an enormous black bear had filled his passenger window, paralyzing steve with fear, as steve's heart tried to break out of his chest.the bears' snout was almost as big as steve's whole face. it took three good curious whiffs of the air, and steve started screaming, just like the director from the godfather when he discovers the head of the prized horse in his bed with him. "aaauuuugggghh, aaaauuuggghh,aaaauuuggghh!" he screamed over and over. this scared the salmon eating shit out of the poor black bear just waking up from hibernation, along with the rush from the cloud of crack smoke steve had blown out. the bear was off and running, so steve kept screaming.all he could hear after that was thump thump. oh shit he's on the roof of the car, steve thought , but the thump thump, thump, he heard was the pounding of his heart almost ready to explode.
he looked at the knuckles of his hands, they were bone white and wrapped around the steering wheel and he dug his long overdue for a clipping nail; into his palms deep enough to draw blood. he began honking the horn and laughing hysterically. when he looked into the rear view mirror to see if he could spot thew bear he realized that tears were pouring down his face.he rolled up the windows and locked the doors. just then his cell phone rang, it was his girlfriend, he said"honey, you're never gonna believe this!"