Tag: satire

MAKE THEM LAUGH

On By Terrapin - The JourneyIn Uncategorized2 Comments

laugh

 
When you’re laughing its hard to be sad

So issue some humor and life’s not so bad

Whether it a gaffe or a joke off the graph

A quick one liner or a whole paragraph

It you want to be happy, then make them laugh

MAKE THEM LAUGH

Laughing is like knocking boots
‘Cept you don’t  get naked
Make Them Laugh
Even if they fake it

Tell a silly joke a playful pun
Or some well placed sarcasm
Cuz when you make someone laugh
You give their brain an orgasm

So make them chuckle
Make them moan and groan
Give them a mental climax
Or they’ll be holding their own

They may grab their sides
With tearful elation
Sometimes the best you can give
Is some humor gratification
Just make them laugh
It’s free

COSMO AND THE GARDEN EARTH (excerpt from Act III)

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act

 

Jesus Christ Superstar Do You Think You’re What They Say You Are?
JT Hilltop

News. North East West South. Good news, bad news, happy news, sad news. All types and in all types of type. There’s tragic news, welcome news, unwelcome news, news, news, news, all kinds of news. Some news has little or no consequence on your life and some comes hurling at you like a shit ton of bricks. So much news it‘s not fit to print. News can make you laugh or cry, chuckle or sigh, scream and die, or wish you could fucking fly. News is unstoppable, it can have no effect on your life or it can cause a drama laden pile of shit upheaval that it will change you forever. But one thing is certain about news and that is its gonna come. News is coming toward you and there ain’t a Goddam thing you can do to stop it. Mary Anne had just this sort of news for the God Cosmo and her news was one of those shit-tons that came on a speeding train out of control heading straight down the track with no one at the wheel. Not even Casey fucking Jones could’ve stopped this bitch train of news and like it or not the news was coming and Cosmo had better be ready. And once this news hits Cosmo’s fan there will shit flying across all the galaxies. The key difference between good or bad news is all in your perspective. “Cosmo my favorite god, the only God I have ever truly loved, I have some good news and some bad news for you and its basically the same. Remember that time we had our romp in the clouds in The District? You filled me up with joy, pleasure, intense feeling and….and a shitload of highly active God-sperm. There is no easy way to say this. You have a baby boy and his names Jesus.” A baby? That’s not your average local planet news, that’s God and Goddess dam intergalactic news! It’s the kind of life altering news that for some is incredible and joyous and to many others it’s indifferent. But for the vast number who get this news for the first time its frightening. It’s the kind of news that will have you running down the street screaming halleluiah I’m gonna be a parent or slam you headfirst into unprepared parenthood. “You have a son” is the very definition of life altering news. “You have a son, his name is Jesus” is beyond life altering, its planet altering, nay universe shaking! Cosmo repeated the name Jesus of Cosmo over to himself more than a dozen times until it finally sunk in that he had a son who is half God, half Non-God.
Now lets put some perspective on this news. Not your ordinary couple and seldom in any of the universes has this type of mixed marriage worked. Mary Anne is a Non-God from a planet in the Babaloo Galaxy who was at one time a God-Toy, or to put it in mortal terms, an erotic escort. Cosmo had paid special attention to Mary Anne and after their weekend fling thought he felt someone else in the room. Little did he know it was just his seedling. Cosmo is the God of The Milky Way Galaxy and was normally very careful on his sexcapades but it only takes one little slip and……well you get the rest. However we must keep in mind that Cosmo has always been a stand up god willing to do the right thing (for a God anyway) as well as quite resourceful. If anyone can put a positive gravitational spin on this news Cosmo could. So this news of baby Jesus would not be taken lightly. First things first let it be known that the moment it sunk in that mary Anne had conceived his only begotten son Cosmo understood his responsibility to both Mary Anne and baby Jesus. As much as he loved his bachelorhood the thought of a solid lifestyle held a degree of appeal to Cosmo. On the other hand Cosmo was quite the lover and never had a problem finding a partner. Yet many a night was spent lonely watching his garden of you mans and Mary Anne would certainly be of interesting company. A God has no qualms about past practices of their mates and frankly he appreciated what she did. Not to mention she is quite skilled at put a huge smile on the virile gods face that weekend. Come to think of it was as if she had surgically implanted that smile for over a week afterwards. Either way the bottom line is he had a baby and a responsibility to both the baby and the non god he had fallen in love with. Wait! What? Fallen in love? Certainly not fallen, perhaps he had stumbled in a profound like with her but love? Come to think of it he did create the fertile crescent while thinking of her beautiful hair (If indeed it was as he claims her head which was the body part he was thinking about). Maybe this news can be used for a positive effect on the three of them and for garden Earth as well. A plan was inseminated and the egg was ready to be hatched. Cosmo knew exactly what to do with the news.
Of course the news is also going to be heard at a Board Co-Operative Gods and Goddesses meeting in District 7. The board is like the gravitational black hole of universal gossip. Nothing escapes it. Whether it’s entertainment, breaking news or even just hearsay, all news that’s fit to print or printed to fit will find its way to District 7 in a radio-active flash. The best thing for Cosmo to do is to have his plan of action fully worked out before they summon him. Some mixed marriages have worked, a god and a non god can live a happy life but many a failure has been scandalized across the universes. With this plan however Cosmo was taking fatherhood to an unprecedented level . He had already sold it on his non god lover who had found herself in a awkward position of being the mother of a gods child. Ironically it was the twisting herself into an awkward position one pleasure soaked night that lead to her situation in the first place. For her part it was difficult to argue with a God to begin with but Mary Anne trusted Cosmo implicitly and his plan seemed to make sense. Truth be told she did have some reservations at first but after thinking the story through a few times it began to grow on her. (The plan….Not the God manhood) Her son would be a savior, a Christ. Her son would be the messiah of Garden Earth. She repeated it to herself, “My son, Jesus Christ, Superstar.”
It was much easier to get the Boards okay than Cosmo had anticipated. Who knows maybe it was his unending charm, maybe they dug the plan, maybe they were just tired of seeing him, or maybe they just wanted the messy scandal over and done post haste. Cosmo laid out in detail how he was going to offer his son as a virginal birth to be the son of Cosmo and help get the you mans to understand that they have strayed from the law of life, and had become a threat to the cycle. He would have a big hullabaloo when the child was born, have him disappear mysteriously while he learns how to teach the word of Cosmo. He will then spread the word of Cosmo and teach all the you mans about the necessity of his cycle of life. Cosmo schemed to find the right woman to impregnate and fake it as a virginal birth. It would go down in you mans history as an immaculate conception and the child would be the son of Cosmo and spread the word. Mary Anne would raise their son Jesus and train him for his mission at the same time. They would stay at an undisclosed location in District 7 where Cosmo could visit on weekends. When Jesus was ready and the time was right he would switch out the child on earth with Jesus and he could bring the you mans back to the path of righteousness. Then he could switch the body double back and everything would be right once again. A pretty brilliant plan if everything goes as it should. If!
The very first problem arose rather early into the plan. Cosmo chose a nice Jewish couple from Nazareth in the city of Galilee. Joseph and Mary. He visited Mary while Joseph was away and worked his sexual magic on her for hours filling her with gallons of egg hungry swimming godsperms. He had Mary believe it was a dream, a very sweet dream, and she would be none the wiser. Of course she became pregnant right away but the snag was in the child she bore. It was a female and Mary named her Rosemary. So he had to make a second attempt after allowing Rosemary to get a few earth years in age. The second attempt was successful after eliminating the x chromosomes from his body fluid. During the night in that session he told Mary he was an angel from the god Cosmo and that she would be giving birth to the son of a god and he would be the savior of the world. But in her dream she heard it as the son God, not the son of A god. When she woke she was even more confused (and satisfied) than the first dream. When she conveyed the story to Joseph he was very suspicious at first. “Wait, you’re telling me Mary that God had sex with you and you are carrying his baby? An angel told you to name him Jesus? And this happened while I was out of town?” Mary was struggling with it as well because the dream seemed so real, but eventually she was able to convince Joseph as well as herself. She told everyone that God has told her to have this immaculately conceived baby and that he was going to save the world. It was met with a cloud of doubt and cynicism, and rumblings of gossipy sordid affairs abounded. But it was as she would find out, not only her cross to bear.
They were advised by some wise men, three of them actually, that it would be best for everyone if the birth not take place in town. Considering it good advice they opted to go to a friends farmhouse in Bethlehem. They had the plan all set and knew God would be lighting the way with a bright star which as it turns out was really a comet by the name Halley. They found a little manger outside the friends farmhouse and decided that it would be perfect. The baby was born, Mary named him Jesus as she had been instructed, and things were going along as planned for a change. The three wise dudes had a baby shower and brought some cool presents and announced to the world that a baby had been born, and that he was the son of God, and he would be baptized by John, a famous revivalist that held people under water until they agreed to repent. He would then be hidden as he learned the word of God in the wilderness with nothing but his rod and a small staff.
To Be Continued……

Went To A Garden Party (An Existentialists Satirical Bible Interpretation)

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garden

 

 

Garden Party, part II

Previously on Garden Party:
However, in an area we now call the Middle East, the so-called fertile crescent (fertile the definitive word), two tribes stood out amongst all others. The Aggies and The Shepherds.

Adam came across a small waterhole in which a young lady was bathing in the nude. Not recognizing her from his tribe he assumed she must belong to the Shepherds
Part Two…..Everybody out of the gene pool!

The first night after seeing this naked Shepherd woman Adam woke up all wet after a salacious dream of fantasy. S&M and fetishes (aside from the occasional animal fetish) hadn’t been invented yet so Adams fantasy was of pure and lurid sex with this fair shepherds daughter. He now had an obsession to sneak off to the forbidden zone in search of the erogenous zone. After quickly finishing his chores he would sneak down to the waterhole every day hoping for a copious viewing. He watched from the trees as she bathed herself getting more horny each day. He stared in awe until he got up enough nerve to confront her. “Young maiden of the Shepherds, why do you come to the forbidden place each day by yourself?” The young maiden pretended to be alarmed even though she had been aware of his hiding and staring since his first visit. Frankly, she was just as curious and horny as he was, also experiencing tingles and fantasizing about inter-tribal sex. “I come here to bath myself, not to be stared at by an Aggie. Why do you come here every day to stare at me?” The young Aggie gave this some thought, because quite frankly he wasn’t sure himself why he was here. “ I come not to stare at you but to explore the area and determine if the land is fit for growing” he lied. The young maiden blushed slightly when she saw the lust in his dark brown eyes. “Are you sure it is the land you wish to explore? It seems to me you are looking at my body and I believe that is not vegetation I see growing under your loincloth” The audacious young maiden gave him a look that offered more a challenge than a venting of distain. She blinked her eyes at him and something strange happened. He felt a Funny feeling in his stomach as though the seeds he used to grow things themselves were festering from within. He boldly chose to accept the challenge. “It is true that have gazed upon you and appreciate the…..unusual beauty you possess. Indeed I was hoping perhaps you were an Aggie and would be my maiden.” The Aggie could feel his entire body shaking and the young Shepherd maiden did not back away. She moved closer to the Aggie. “I am a Shepherd woman, not a dirt laden Aggie maiden. And you young Aggie, you are filled with dirt from your farming. If I were to ever consider being a maiden to the like of you I would expect you to be clean. Why don’t you come in here and allow me to bathe you?” It was more of an order than an invitation but that was of no consequence because he had already made his mind up as to where he was headed and his manhood was pointing the way. To honor this beuty of an animal penner Adam showed her a huge bud of something he had cultivated on his own. He broke off a piece, rolled it in some paper and struck a fire stick. He approached the watering hole with a mere modicum of trepidation and a huge blunt. Well two large blunts in the metaphoric sense. She held out her hand and he accepted the smoking blunt and puffed heartily. “What do you call this farm boy?” to which he answered with a dopey smile, “Green Acres.”
They puffed this happy herb and lo and behold it lowered their inhibitions to zero. Adam dropped his loincloth and revealed that the growth underneath it was indeed ripe for the picking. He stepped naked into the waterhole beside her. For two minutes they cleansed each other, eyes sparkling with curious wonder. The Aggie closed his eyes and allowed this maiden, this Shepherd woman to touch him all over. When she got down to washing below his waist he was surprised to discover how eagerly his body was responding without his consent. The maiden held his solid manpole in her hand. “Methinks my Aggie that you have something other than bathing on your mind.” Unable to form an actual word, the Aggie grabbed the maiden in his arms and laid a big fat spit swapping kiss on her using his tongue muscle very skillfully. This was something new to the maiden, and at first she wanted to pull back. However, once she realized how good the tongue tango felt, she greedily sucked his tongue into her mouth and allowed the saliva filled dance to continue. Well I don’t have to tell you what happened next. Sparks flew and fluids oozed, and soft moaning was the only form of communication. Of course the two lovers understood they would be scorned by their fellow tribe members for allowing their naked bodies to exchange these biological fluids, but frankly Scarlet they didn’t give a damn. They continued to explore each other and exchange passion and bodily fluids in so many positions it laid the groundwork for the upcoming Kama Sutra. They made passionate love four times and some not so passionate love twice more. It wasn’t until after the sixth round of carnal explorations led to exhaustion that they even introduced themselves to each other. “I am called Adam, which means man.” To which the maiden replied, “Indeed Adam, you are quite the man. More so than any Shepherd I have ever known. My name is Eve, which means life.” With a big fat satisfied grin Adam replied, “Indeed Eve, you have breathed life into me unequaled by any other Aggie I have ever known.” The only sound was the b=chirping birds, the cricking crickets, and the two stomachs growling from an unusual hunger pang. They found a fabulous apple tree and satisfied the very first cases of herbal munchies.
So Adam and Eve began to meet each other every day smoking Eden weed and making love like a couple of school kids. But all was not so good back at the tribes. The other Aggies were beginning to get suspicious because Adam never ever seemed to be dirty anymore. How could anyone work the soil all day yet remain free of dirt. And back at the Shepherds they began to get suspicious because Eve was always singing and whistling showing no interest in even the most handsome of Shepherds. Now it just so happened that the leader of each tribe sent a spy out to follow their respective suspected tribe violators on the very same day. Once at the watering hole, the Aggie spy hid in the north woods while the Shepherd spy hid in the south woods. At first the spies were appalled and shocked. But Adam and Eve were both so very sexually talented, and each brought new tricks specific to their tribes that it became more of a show. Sex theater at it’s finest. I believe at least one, perhaps even both had become so excited while watching that they pleasured themselves before returning to the tribe leaders to give the reports.
The tribe leaders were livid. Furious! How could this possibly happen? It was the most outrageous act that had ever occurred. They both paced, in different colonies yet somehow in unison, until the sinners returned to their folds. The minute Adam returned to the farming village he was grabbed by the biggest and strongest Aggies and brought before the leader. “Adam, I am quite disappointed”, he said, “You have disrespected every member of our tribe by engaging in this disgusting act with a Shepherd woman.” Adam didn’t answer, he just stood there looking sheepish, which for an Aggie was another no no. “You’re despicable act has left me with no other choice. You shall be banned forever from the garden of Eden. Go now, get out and never return. Take your Shepherd slut with you!” Adam sadly walked to his hut to gather his belongings. Inside he saw his best and now only friend. “How did he find out” he asked of this friend. “Well Adam, you were spied on by Cain. He followed you and reported back to the leader.” Adam shook his head and mumbled, “Cain, of course. I should have guessed. That shit spreading farmer is gonna pay for this someday.” And with that, Adam left towards the waterhole hoping to see Eve there one last time.
Eve of course had a similar experience, and she too was permanently banned from the Garden of Eden. Eve was certain it was Abel that had spied on her as Abel had always tried putting the moves on her but she forever denied his advances. Reluctantly she too had to leave, and also chose to have one last look around the sexually charged waterhole in hopes that somehow Adam might be there. As luck would have it, which luck often does in fairy tales, they met at the very same moment and exchanged stories of banishment’s.
So hand in hand Adam and Eve left the Garden of Eden forever, Eve holding in one hand one of the apples and a huge green bud Adam had grown for her, and in her other hand she held tight Adams snake, which Eve had so totally and completely tamed. It was the summer of discontent, and the fall of man.

 

Went To A Garden Party (An Existentialists Satirical Bible Interpretation)

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garden

 

 
Part I
By JT Hilltop

Preface

We can’t wait until our babies can talk until they can. And damn can they talk.. Once they learn the fine art of communicating we bang our heads for not being careful what we wished for. They have an inate sense of how to easily push opur buttons with one simple word. Why! It’s an exercise in redundancy in which every answer we give evokes another why. Then they start to really ask questions. Not a question here and there but a barrage of never ending questions that like that once cute game of peek a boo has no definitive ending. “What’s oral sex Mom, why did you call that driver an ’A-hole’?”. What’s it mean when some one sticks up their middle finger Dad, is that bad? Is the ‘F‘ word bad?” And that’s just kindergarten. They wanna know everything about everything and the questions don’t stop, “Mommy, where do babies come from? Daddy, why were you moving furniture around last night?” Its just in the very fabric of our being to be inquisitive because even those unwilling to speak are curious. Inquiring mimes want to know.
Back when I was just a mere tadpole swimming around the shore burning questions festered in my head as well. I must have driven my Mom and Dad crazy with my overwhelming curiosity. “Why do I have to eat spinach? Is broccoli little tree’s? Why do I have to put the seat up after I pee?” Do spiders sleep at night?” “Who is God?” It was the last one that had Mom reeling and she handed me a black book called The Bible and said in a very earnest voice, “take this book to your father and ask him about God.”
And so I did. My dad wan’t one of those “I have to be honest with you son” types, in fact he funneled down the sex talk from my older brothers to avoid having to go one on one with me about biological urges so his bible explanation left much to be desired. Ergo, I was left to my own devices to come up with an interpretation….
Engagement Party In The Eden Room

My science teacher once told me evolution is the key to everything. Everything either evolves or it doesn’t survive. Who am I to doubt such an astute authority figure? He went on to tell me there was a time when we were all mere single celled organisms. Those were the good old days, so much more innocent than life is for humans today. Back then they didn’t even have a name for us, language hadn’t even evolved yet. Now they call us bipeds because we walk upright on two legs and use our hands to make and use tools. The original bipeds, our fellow male pig Neanderthals grew up like any other pack animals, in tribes. Each tribe or community took care of itself, gave as good as it got, hunted and gathered, and had no political affiliations all of them being progressives. They’re only purpose was to eat and fuck. Reproduction and eating kept the tribe alive. Sex was a happy accident of a survival strategy. Eating was rudimentary but make no mistake sex was the key to life. Most tribes were hunters or scavengers, either killing and eating animals, or scavenging the vegetation already here on earth. However, in an area we now call the Middle East, the so-called fertile crescent (fertile the definitive word), two tribes stood out among all others. The Aggies and The Shepherds. Both tribes had become far more advanced than any of the other tribes. These two tribes used reason and logic, figuring out a way to survive working together as a colony. It took a village. One tribe were The Aggies who learned how to manipulate the vegetation and grow it at will using soil, sun and water. They were prolific growers. The other tribe, The Shepherds, learned how to manipulate the cattle and sheep, and penned them up creating a seemingly endless supply of milks and meats. They were prolific manipulators. These two tribes habituated a very large area called the Garden of Eden. They didn’t like each other but they used their logic and reason to devise treaties and form imaginary lines they called boundaries which they agreed never to cross. So it was agreed the Aggies could live in the North Eden, and the Shepherds in South Eden. The tribes kept to themselves and all was peaceful until one seemingly insignificant incident set of a series of events that would change existence forever.
It was a beautiful late morning day in the Garden of Eden when a young male Aggie named Adam decided to take a walk in the designated forbidden area. The forbidden area was smack dab in the middle of the garden which served as a sort of buffer between the two tribes. It was chock full of colorful vegetation and small wildlife that enjoyed a life free of human domination or tricks. Both Aggies and Shepherds had agreed to never enter and allow whatever life survived within have it‘s freedom. That was their demilitarized zone, a patch of land untouched and unused by man or woman. But Adam was always an impetuous adventurous young man and snuck in to admire the beauty of the wild garden and cultivate different herbs and mushrooms in the magical place. He had created a hybrid of cannabis and special mushrooms which would one day in the future of the world play a large part in Moses having his “conversation” with God. But for now Adam kept the mind enhancers secret as he was not supposed to be in that area. In fact, no one else was either, but as it would happen, or perhaps as it was destined to happen, a female had also found solace in the forbidden garden zone.
So it was that on this one particular day everything would change forever. Adam was tending his plants in solitude when he swore he heard splashing water. Following the delicate splash sounds Adam came across a small waterhole in which a young lady was bathing in the nude. Not recognizing her from his tribe he assumed she must belong to the Shepherds. Those slightly whiter skinned people who smelled of animal shit. At first he was turned off but when he looked closely at her he noticed something strange. Aside from her large woman bumps she looked much like his own kind did only fairer in skin and hair. She had a pale complexion but much of her face was obscured by long bouncing colorless curls of thick hair. He liked the way her hair reflected the light of the sun across her face allowing only her eyes of deep turquoise which sparkled like evening stars and tiny button like nose and full lips in full view. He began to get a tingling in his loins because he found her oddly attractive and his fig leaf moved seemingly on its own. He became entranced as she bathed, water glistening off her white full breasts. The sight of her cherry nipples made his stomach a tad queasy. But not a bad queasy, a kind of happy tingling. He spied her with great delight and even began to wonder if she was like the women of Aggies in other ways. He felt that youthful familiar rising in his loins that cause men to lose control of their senses. He imagined her enjoying the pleasures of sex with him like the young women of his own tribe. He fantasized making wild unbridled passionate love to her. Considering the times perhaps it was bridled sex, but whatever, she made him hard and horny as all….. For lack of a better term, all Hell.
Adam continued tending and sampling his unusual cultivation’s but that was merely his fake excuse to return. Of course Adam had already decided he would return to cop a view everyday, have a quick toke of his and he had inadvertently created what would become the heart and soul of religion……Ritual

To Be Continued Tomorrow

I Wanna New Drug ( From The Insidious Adventures Of JT Hilltop)

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new drug

 

J. T. Hilltop

The moment I saw the shit eating grin on Kens face I knew he had scored something special. My heart was racing even before any kind of chemical assistance would kick in. Will it be some opium streaked black hash? Some wheelchair gold weed or Thai stick?  Whatever it was I knew we were about to embark on an adventurous ride somewhere. “Yo, JT. Check this out Bro, my cousin Jerry just came from Brooklyn with this.”  Ken passed me a small tinfoil package, “Here man lets  do a line.”   I opened up the packet and noticed a familiar white powder, but it seemed almost wet. “What is it man, some super coke or something?”  Ken chuckled, “no no no man, this is fucking powdered THC, Jerry just calls it T. Its like all the good shit from weed all packed into this powder without smoking. You and me are gonna see just how powerful it is.”

Ken  used me as a barometer for his drugs because like him I have like a natural ability to metabolize drugs and  can normally handle at least a half a hit more than most kids. If someone did one hit of Blue Cheer we did two.  So if it freaks us out he dials it back or warns his customers how far to push it and if it doesn‘t get us jazzed he knows its weak shit. Carrie and I had been doing a lot of coke lately and frankly I wasn’t really digging it that much. I’d rather smoke a joint, eat a couple of ludes, and then just have sex or something. But everyone was chasing the coke high. This new T powder could be a welcome change, a new drug. I took the square piece of mirror from the table, poured out the powder, then went through the awesome ritual of chopping and forming two thick and two thin equal sized lines of the powder. Ken passed me a rolled up twenty dollar bill so I placed one end up my nose and bent over sniffing the first line like professional Dyson. Tilting my head back I dipped my fingers in my beer and dripped some into my nostrils forcing the residue further into my sinus cavity. It burnt a little bit and had a kind of chemical taste but it walloped me instantly at the back of my head turning it numb. I repeated the same processes on the second line passing the mirror to Ken. My nose hairs probably disappeared running away in flames but my brain would not be registering any pain. I felt it going right to the back of my cranium tickling my cerebellum.

It took about fifteen seconds for the inside of my head to explode. A mushroom cloud erupted in my brain  forcing my skull to grow like five inches to compensate for the euphoric growth. I imagined my forehead like a Cro-Magnon. Dead brain cells were being piled up in brain cell body bags by the endoplasmic reticulum synapse police as what was left of my sanity began triaging the remaining frazzled yet live cells. I got up to walk but my feet and legs had filled up with helium so I couldn‘t feel the ground. As I closed my eyes and tilted my head back I visualized walking, or rather floating in someone’s garden. The garden was beautiful full of running streams, fruit tees, and flowers. It seemed as though it should be familiar but I couldn’t ever remember being there before. None the less I wanted to walk through it until I noticed the paths were lined with what I  thought was cooked spaghetti. The pasta began slithering and hissing as it morphed into snakes. It felt like two people were watching me and I began chuckled thinking I must be in the Garden of Eden with Adam and Eve wondering who the fuck I was. I did however realize I was tripping and needed to master this new high so I focused as best I could.  I opted to try and negotiate a walk through the garden.  The helium continued to fill up in my legs. It was as though  I needed to be tethered like the balloons at a Macys parade or I may float away. I took a few steps forward without feeling my feet on the ground but going forward on complete faith that I still knew how to walk and the floor would happily meet my unfeeling feet. Everything looked distorted to the point of surrealism. Dimensions came and went or piggy backed on each other leading to total confusion. On top of that apparently some of the helium was escaping because as Ken spoke to me he sounded like Theodore or Alvin from the old Chipmunks cartoon. The world had morphed into slow motion, or maybe stop motion it was hard to discern.

A squeaky mouse voice whispered in my ear, “JT, I’m too fucking high man. I can’t fucking move.” Then the squeaker began laughing. I looked over at Ken and his mouth was laughing but his eyes were like fixed, open but staring into nothingness and registering no emotion. He was seated in a multi colored cushioned rocking chair that was hovering a foot above the floor. Except for his laughing mouth he looked like he was frozen solid. Somehow I made my way over to him, “Are you okay Bro?” I think I was swaying, like a weeble that wobbles but doesn’t fall down but I can’t say for sure. Ken stopped laughing, “I think I’m a wax statue.” For  two seconds that seemed like sixty we both thought about what he said and broke out laughing. I laughed so hard I had to sit down, if only I could figure out where a chair was. It took us somewhere in the vicinity of forty five minutes to regain our composure. Or maybe it was two days, that was how high we were.

Once I was able to maintain a lucid thought I realized all the hallucinating I had been doing. Ken was back in that green recliner, I had legs, and I had visited the Garden Of Eden. Best hallucinations ever, we found a new drug and it was beyond groovy. But this shit was definitely way strong so it had to be cut with some mannitol. I knew instantly our entire town would put the cocaine on hold and get into this new THC.
TBC

Epilogue.        T became the new drug of choice, it was like being more stoned than you had ever been before without falling asleep.  After about six to eight  months reports of kids being hospitalized after using powdered THC and becoming paralyzed, like frozen. It seemed someone had adulterated the chemical by adding something far more dangerous and it quickly fell out of fashion. Much to my dismay cocaine once again became to drug of choice at bars. I didn’t dig coke too much because you only got one good rush from coke on the first hit then spent the rest of the night trying to relive it until your mouth hurt from grinding your teeth. Not to mention the paranoia it caused. None of that however deterred me from putting as much of it up my nose as I could afford. We invented snake lines which were the longest white powdered lines possible but it still had people going crazy looking for more. I continued snorting even though I didn’t particularly care for coke because it was still a drug and the rush of doing illegal shit was addictive. The shrinks later on would tell me I suffered from an addictive personality disorder but I still think like most kids I was just always looking for kicks, I just had a bigger sweet tooth for the forbidden than most.  Either way my mantra back then was most definitely  “I wanna a new drug.”

Age Is Just A Number And other Lies I Tell Myself

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age

 

 

J. T. (Over The) Hilltop

After  a certain age one of the most awkward questions to ask is how old they are. Especially if the question is asked of a woman and  answered with the equally awkward question, how old do you think I am? A very quick processing takes place, I look at the woman who asked me, guess at what age I really believe she is, and then subtract ten years. It’s a tried and true algebraic equation which often brings a smile while proving that those algebra classes did in fact come in handy.  But first the tough part. Do I answer? Use the algebra and hope she looks at least close to the age I originally guessed so she feels good and I escape my awkward situation? What if my guess is way off and I offend her? That’s almost as bad as asking a woman when the baby is due only to yourself being sliced up and set on fire from her eyes, letting you know in no uncertain terms she is not pregnant. Maybe I’ll use the trusty old stand-by, distract and move on? Maybe I could just lie and say “Age is just a number” then change the subject. Age is just a number. That’s the first lie I tell myself about getting old.

It’s not “just” a number, its an ever escalating number that grows exponentially. It’s a number that goes up but never down no matter how hard we try to look younger. A toupee? They look live divots you replaced in your scalp. Dressing in younger style, dieting, crèmes, oils, aromatherapy, we have an abundance of reverse the aging process products on the market. I get emails telling me I can increase my virility by washing with bull semen. They just happen to have a deal on it this week too. Who collects that semen anyway? Some brave young stud I guess because I can barely outrun a snail. And of course the hard sell, little pills of instant sex machine. Viagra. How did my Dad survive without it? Age is a number all right and I’m getting tired of having to add to it all the time.

The second lie I tell myself is that I’m getting old. I’m passed the getting point and at the being point. I am old! I’m at the dinosaur stage. The days of my roaming the earth in search of food or other dinosuars is ancient history now. I have moved on to a new epoch. A friggen senior.  But not to worry, with age comes wisdom. Yea, that’s the next lie. They say intelligence is knowing that tomatoes are fruits and wisdom is knowing not to put it in a fruit salad. I know there are tons of stupid people out there but I have never seen anyone put tomatoes in fruit salad so the wisdom they speak of is actually very common. Besides, with all this reported wisdom how come I still don’t even know who “they” are? Oh I’m much wiser now, I realize drinking has a limit and I know it real well at this point but do I actually have wisdom? Not really, it took me a very long time to learn things I should have known years ago.

Next lie. You’re not getting older you’re getting better. Getting better at what? Just when I think I have a handle on new technology it springs another light year ahead. It took me four years and numerous lessons from my kids to learn how to schedule the VCR and one month later everyone switched to cable DVR’s and some Blur ray crap. It’s like the eight track fiasco all over again. I go to the doctor he doesn’t say “Hey good news, your getting better”, he says, “You’ve gotta exercise, lose weight, and slow down” That’s an oxymoron. If I slow down how can I exercise? Things I used to do all night take me all night to do once.

Next lie. I’m aging like a fine wine. Hahahahaha… Nice try but no. If you age a wine too long or too wrong it becomes vinegar. In human terms vinegar is known as the grumpy old man stage. Admittedly the older I got the more complicated life got and with wine  complications are a virtue. I have so much extra skin that no longer fits I could hide a bottle of wine in the flaps. The older I get the more like box wine I become. There’s plenty of me and I’m cheap. If you drink a lot of wine you will develop a common trait of us seniors, you’ll be heading to the bathroom to empty your bladder a lot. Only difference is mine isn’t full, it just likes the comfort of relaxing by the toilet.

Next lie. You’re as young as you feel. Really?? Than I must be a hundred and twenty years because that’s how old I feel in the morning. It takes a lot of coaxing from my brain to get my extremities on board with getting out of bed.  This young as it feels body feels like its been running on fumes for so long it gives out contact highs. I need a check liver light with all the alcohol I’ve consumed and a lung scraping for years of smoke abuse. Bones are crisp, like peanut brittle crisp and the noises they make scare the cat. When I was young I felt like partying all night and now I look forward to bedtime.

Next lie. You’re aging gracefully. That’s total bullshit, I may pretend like I’m being graceful but grace walked out for a pack of cigarettes years ago and I haven’t heard from it since. I’m fighting it constantly but I’m losing every battle. I use plenty of preservatives or as I like to call it Vodka, but after a few of them it’s almost impossible to be graceful. Age is kicking my ass and making me look like a lame bum boxer from Palooka-Ville that functions best when it takes a dive. In the first round.

Next lie. 60 is the new 40. What?? Are you kidding me? There is absolutely nothing about being 60 that’s new except maybe the effects of senility and the loss of bone matter. Someone tried to explain baldness to me as my brain pushing the hairs out to make room for the overload of intelligence we have. I believe it’s actually the brain cells become too weak to function and hold down the roots at the same time so they just let go. In a desperate search for belonging the follicles colonize in the ears and nose where they set up tight knit communities that are unruly to say the least.

Last lie. It’s not the years in your life, it’s the life in your years. Okay, I have to admit that ones true. Despite the fact that I have to convince myself to get up each morning, despite the fact that the image in the mirror is way fatter and has much less hair than the real me, despite the fact I am not much wiser, despite the fact that young people laugh when I try to use the newest technology, and despite the fact I constantly need to remind myself not to let the small shit turn me into a grumpy old man, it’s still me who is in control of how I live out the rest of my life. Is it asking too much to live it out with a little of that reckless abandon that I enjoyed so much before responsibilities became my reality? I hope not……PEACE

Like A Bat Out Of Hell Part 1

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bat 1

 

 

 

I’m Coming Home I’ve Done My Time

J.T. Hilltop

I woke up feeling good as I looked over at my thirty scratches on the jail cell wall. Each day I made a new scratch. It was my countdown to freedom. They don’t supply you with calendars in jail so I had to keep track like some sundial making ancient Roman or something. My cell wall calculations were my oracle and they foretold that its time for “Yankee Boy” the now infamous New York jailbird in some South Carolina Correctional Facility to get out of this hellhole and back to….. Well I‘m not sure where I’m going yet but believe this my brothers and sisters anywhere is better than jail. I was ready to breath free air once again. I was finished with my 30 day stint for driving with a suspended license. Yea I know, major crimes division was all over me but the truth is they locked me up for that because they couldn’t make the marry-wanna charge stick and they had no real proof that it was me using a garden hose as a credit card for gasoline. Thirty days may not seem like much to you but when you can’t go anywhere, get feed cold instant shit grits four days a week, fill up on some bitter spinachy thing called turnip greens, and the highlight of your day is watching some dudes argue over the game of checkers it feels like forever. Not to mention it takes less than a week to lose your identity and fill yourself with a nagging sense of hopelessness. Besides all that thirty days without even seeing a female was torture for a 20 year old with hormonal overdrive syndrome.

So it’s time to alert the friendly guards so they can escort me to freedom. I was feeling a little bit New York cocky so I addressed my jailors in terms they are not especially fond of, “Yo turnkey! Hey oh, today is day 31, I’m supposed to be getting out of here!” My words echoed off the jail cell bars so I tried again. “Hey! Oh! I did my time I want to get out of here!” Maybe yelling louder will help. “HEY COUNTRY BOY I WANT TO GO HOME!” But no guards came by and even if they did they would probably just stare at me with utter disgust and distain, the one thing they’re real good at. It was beginning to feel hopeless, like I was destined to be my own Lifetime TV movie about a young hippie who gets locked up in a South Carolina prison for thirty days then ends up doing a life sentence in a prison run by sadistic cops. The other prisoners, most of which have never even seen me but were happy to trade insults with me all the time, had a sudden change of heart towards me. Insults and trash talk were really just bullshit, spoken to sorta brighten up the day but when the cops fuck with one of us? Man they fuck with all of us. Nothing like a little injustice from authorities to break down barriers creating a bond between the oppressed. Someone else started yelling on my behalf, “Yo, let Yankee Boy out.” Another voice repeated the phrase and then another. Before long it was an out and out chant of a brotherhood of wrongly incarcerated inmates enjoying any opportunity to piss of the guards. An ear shattering chorus of “Let the Yankee go!! Let the Yankee go!!” now shook the iron bars.

A loud clanging of a billyclub on those prison bars brought a momentary silence, long enough for a guard to raise his voice. “HEY! Alla y’all better shut the hell up right now! I ain’t hearin no shit from y’all today the Braves is playin’. Y’all bess shut up right here and right now! Whicha Y’all started this mess and done ruined my game anyhow?” Just my luck, my old pal Billy boy, always ready to rumble with a man in handcuffs anytime of the day and a big fan of kicking Yankee ass. Fuck it come hell or high water I’m gettin outta this shithole, “Me, I started it officer Billy. Your favorite long hair Yankee. I done finished my time and I want outta here now!” Billy walked up to do what he does best. He stared me down for a few seconds then spoke in his own special brand of condescension, “Now listen here Yankee boy, if’n its time to kick yaw stinkin’ long haired ass out this jail I be happier an a pig in a New Yoke City shit puddle but I ain’t no judge or no record keeper boy. So you bess shut your mouth now an let me get back at mah game. I’ll check with the warden bout your time you can believe that. Tell ya what now boy, if’n you done ruin my baseball game fir no reason I’m likely ta kick yaw ass alla way to hell boy! So yawl better be right quiet till then son.” His dissertation contained the usual amount of greasy spit flying off his unruly thick mustache. That vile saliva always seems to accompany his attempts at proper use of the English language. I wiped my face, “Listen here turnkey, I been counting every day here and the judge done give me thirty day and its been thirty day. Great day in the morning how much longer I needa stay here? I wanna git outta here.” Jesus shit only been there thirty days but I’m starting to talk like him.

I stood at the bars waiting patiently for Billy boy to return but he didn’t come back for over an hour. When he finally did come he walked up to me smiling, “Seems ain’t no one here today can look up to check yer story boy. Now lookie here, heres what we gonna do, yew done gun shut yer trap an get on back to yer little home there ith alla the other law breakers here and I’ll leave a note ta have em check it out first thing come morning.” To make sure I understood he put one end of the Billy club between the bars pointed at my chest and slammed it right into my diaphragm causing me to gasp. The pain was a not so gentle reminder of how mean an sadistic he could be, especially with people in no position to fight back. He smiled triumphantly, gave me a sarcastic “Y’all have a nice day” and walked away loudly lecturing the lot of us on keeping quiet so he could enjoy the game. The rest of the inmates started calling the guards names and offering words of comfort to me. I’d gone from dumb shit dirty Yankee asshole to a prison guard whipping boy martyr which, sad to say, wasn‘t much of an upgrade.

I paced my cell. Two steps at a time as that was all the pacing room I had. The minutes passed even slower than a watched pot. Dinner came and then lights out squashing all my protests in vain. I was here until tomorrow. My living quarter was tiny cell with all the amenities literally at my fingertips and once lights went out we had our nightly talk session, where we offer each others therapists help for the criminally insane. I remained silent because I was afraid my voice would crack and betray the fact that tears had welled up in my eyes. The inmates in my neighborhood tried unsuccessfully to cheer me up as I lay in silence. They finally tired. I fell asleep and dreamed about the beach.

 

We All Live In A Yellow Petri Dish

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world

 

J.T. Hilltop

There are those among us that believe that we ourselves are the ultimate creations, the single most important things in the entire universe. No, not Trump, I’m talking about the science deniers and reverently religious zealots who still insist that the universe is finite and was created by the one and only true creator, theirs. The ones that say earth is only 6,000 years old and science is pure bovine defecation. Taking into consideration that when the world was created calculators were still a ways off, not to mention that the length of a day was our creation not Gods I have to disagree. A day could have lasted a million of our years or a millisecond of time, who‘s to say. Still many insist scientists have it wrong and deny that their religious texts are open to interpretation, that it should all taken literal. (or at least until the literal doesn’t agree with their perceptions) They believe not only are we the most intelligent but we are also the chosen species. Bad news my zealot friends, the truth is we are but small specks of a bacterium culture in a Petri dish being studied under a microscope. Much like the bacterial sight of worms and assorted squiggly things we viewed in biology labs in high school. Perhaps we haven’t even been discovered yet by the scientists/creators studying us. We are merely part of a quantum theory to those viewing universal growth in a dish. To them the bacteria we observe microscopically is still a hypothesis and they are searching for the Higgs Bosen or God particle of humanity. Which in reality once they find this sub atomic particle is nothing more than our very own discovery of staphylococcus. Get it? Well don’t, it’s a bitch to get rid of. But anyway that essentially makes us pathogens to these humongous scientific creatures who have us in their labs in a Petri dish. Confused? Okay, a little perspective.

Physicists today have gone way beyond big bang theory into string, quantum, multi dimensional, and multi-universal thought. Most believe there is not just one universe we can’t even seem to find the end of or that keeps expanding but perhaps there are two or more, maybe an infinite number of universes. We can only see what’s in our own “observable” universe so how can we possibly have enough arrogance to claim there is nothing else but our universe? Personally I think instead of just exploring all over the universe trying to find the end one of us should just stop and ask directions. Unfortunately that would involve admitting we are not the smartest species in this universe. Earth is just one spinning orb filled with various forms of life perhaps totally different from any of the millions of other types of living matter out there in the deep recess of space. At any rate, its my belief that our universe is situated in a huge sort of culture dish in a ginourmous scientific lab that makes the large Hadron Collider in CERN seem like a waterpark. Think of our world being observed like a tiny little ant farm. But one being viewed from the moon. Not our moon, Io, one of Jupiter’s moons.

The truth is our universe does have limits in the way of a spherical finite dish with a circumference as its boundaries. Sure it can grow like bacteria grows but even with logarithmic growth spurts it will eventually hit the rim of the dish and be forced to stop. Our seemingly never ending universe is a live active culture in large round dish known as Experiment#541728226, and it is stored along with hundreds upon hundreds of other universe dishes all containing planets, solar systems, galaxies, quasars, black holes, pulsars and super novas. Or as the multiverse creator/scientists call it, Cosmic Bacterium. To us, our planet has a multitude of different species including humans, but to the Cosmic Scientist we are merely an organic growth in a dish. Its an experiment and we are what they call micro-humanoid genatlium, a parasitic bacteria they discovered on the hairs of the genitals of a species from their world similar to our primates. Kinda like gorilla ball hair bacteria, simian salmonella if you will.

Now I know this all sounds a bit far fetched, like maybe a chapter from an L Ron Hubbard or Michael Creighton story but when you really think about it its not much different than many of the wacko tales of some of our more creative or devolved religions around our own world. Aside from the obvious out there accounts burning bushes, floating zoo’s, talking donkeys, plague bringers, salt pillar people, and river parters of the more common sort we have one religion created by a sci-fi writer that involves alien infiltration. Then we have the not so mainstream or well known religions like ones that focus on magic spells, UFO’s, cosmic light people, and even a church of euthanasia, which promotes cannibalism, suicide, and sodomy. The Seven Deadly Sin Day Adventists. And that’s not even the most bizarre. There is a group of people whose religious belief is that the illuminati impregnated a women with Satan’s sperm and delivered the baby antichrist They also believe that Nicola Tesla was originally from Venus and that we are conducting cloning experiments on Mars. Now I ask you, is a universe that’s a petri dish in a cosmic laboratory really all that out there in this perspective?

I mean really, compare my theory to creation theorist that include leaders who convince their followers to drink poison Kool aid, commit mass suicide to transport their souls to a spaceship chasing the comet Hale Bop, allowed themselves to be killed while locked in a building with their families? How about a theory that the creator of life came from a big boat on a planet orbiting the star Sirius. I’m serious, Sirius! I’m not saying religion is wrong, or bad, but why can’t my theory be as viable as the others?

Shit, by comparison my theory sounds almost plausible, or perhaps even sane! Hell, maybe it is sane, maybe I’m on to something. Perhaps the end of the world as we know it won’t be so spectacular, perhaps our world will end when the scientist in charge of experiment 541728226 gets frustrated at their progress and dumps the entire universe down a galactic drainpipe. Or maybe I watch too much Doctor Who and enjoyed too much mind benders back in the day, but then again hey……Ya never know, I could be on to something. The TARDISites of Gallifrey….I’d follow depending on what sna

 

I’m Miserable Right?

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Jethro Tull - Aqualung

 

 

I’m miserable, right? So I down a glass of vodka…. I’m still miserable, right? Although not quite as miserable as before. So I down another vodka. I’m still miserable, right? Well maybe not miserable but I’m still uptight. So I down another glass of vodka. I’m still mizabell rightio? Well not exactly mizzabrell, I feel kinda okay. Matter of fact I’m feeling pretty shitty good. So I have another vodka. Now I’m feeling it. Matter a fack I may actually be shhhhhh-happy. My oh my that vodka sure is a damn cure all. Onliest problem izzz, when I wakesh up tommorry, I gun be mishabelll all over again. So why’m I so doggone angry alla time these days?

Well to tell ya the truth I believe it began the day I received the letter. Oh yes my brothers and sisters, the letter is coming in the mail for all of us if y‘all haven’t received it already. That dreaded piece of shit envelope with my name on it from AARP. Say what? AARP??? You must want my damn father because I ain’t ready for no bullshit Retired Persons mail. That would make a a goddamn freaking SENIOR! Thinking she was being helpful my baby girl daughter pointed out that it would mean bookoo senior discounts, like at movies and ice cream stores. While she saw savings on really cool things like Netflix and Ice Cream Chill I viewed it as an insult to my entire generation. WTF? We aren’t seniors! We are classic humans who had the good music. We are the generation that had to walk barefoot in the snow uphill both ways just to buy rolling papers at the stationary store. We lived through the drought of 76 when we went three and a half weeks without any weed in town. Not even homegrown. We are far from ready to cash it in and get on the senior tour bus, we’re still digging the psychedelic tangerine flake hippie tie-dye bus tour. Anyway, that’s what started it all, when I got an AARP card reality hit me like a glass of prune juice on the rocks. That’s when I came to understand that I have become the ripped up pair of jeans that are no longer worn but were so comfortable back in time that I can’t throw them away. I am those old comfortable shoes that went out of style years ago but still take up room in the closet. Nowe I’m miserable again.

I was never really a big fan of reality but when it knocks you have no choice but to let it in. And here is the reality….I’m not getting old, I am fucking old! And so it became that my new angry path was the golden road to grumpy old mandom. My sarcastic wit was far too quickly morphing into cynicism and distrust. I was becoming grumpy about everything so I took stock of myself and let reality come in for a visit. Reality entered my abode like a bull in a china shop, it was like a cannonball of facts. Crows feet? I got damn ravens legs. WTF are those wrinkles? That’s just because my skin don’t fit as tight as it used to even though it’s covering twice the mass. The ever increasing midsection of my body went beyond pear shape straight to an amoeba like glutton. Exercise? I’ll gladly pay you Tuesday for a rep of sit up’s today. The most work out I get is carrying the what I bought at the liquor store into the house. Okay, so getting old sucks and being old is worse but that’s really not a reason to be miserable. No one ever said life would be fair but giving me the knowledge I could have used thirty five years ago just ain’t right. No, that’s not what made me miserable on this particular occasion, it was the culmination of all that reality combined with a recent visit to a local bakery that broke the dromedary‘s spine. I went to get some rolls and a loaf of French bread to bring over to some friends place that had invited us for dinner. The sweet young counterperson said to me, “Have you seen our discount? Twenty cents off on Wednesday.” Well another part of aging is we become far more aware of costs than we used to. Twenty cents is twenty cents so I thanked her, paid and left. But when I got back to the car I began thinking she gave me far more than a twenty cent discount so with life playing unfair I put on my reading glasses and looked at the receipt. It said Senior Discount Wednesdays, 20% off. Puzzled because of oncoming senility it took me 10 minutes to realize she hadn’t said have you seen our discount, but We have our senior discount, and it wasn’t twenty cents, it was 20%. As I left the bakery I went straight to my happy place, the liquor store. Why? Because I’m miserable right? The Hell with this shit, I need another vodka……

 

JT Stays At The Motorcycle Club Safe House

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safe house

 

J. T. Hilltop

Disclaimer…in order to preserve the integrity and anonymity of the motorcycle group in this story as well as my own personal protection for disclosing a few of their not so well guarded secrets I will refer to the group as the “Infidels” Infidels were original a name given to anti-Christian religions, kinda like Pagans. So this MC Club are the main rival club of the Angels from Hell and their name has Pagan roots. But I never said that……..

It Won’t Be Long Until You Belong

For reasons I won’t discuss I found myself a temporary resident of a safe house with the Infidels Motorcycle Club. Suffice to say my best friend Archie, who I knew since kindergarten was a member in good standing and it was at his request I was kept away from the world under the protection of his brother Infidels. It was keeping me safe more from myself than anything insidious but there I was, surrounded by a lively bunch of guys whose most obvious flaw was forgetting or simply not caring enough to bathe. (If you know a biker please don’t tell them I said that) To be honest once in the safe house where they let down their guarded style of confrontational outlaw anger and angst they were a remarkably gracious and fun group. They joked both with and about me and I kidded back in an extremely cautious manner. That said it was still my best interest to be aware and respectful of the clubs hierarchy.

The Bayshore Infidels are highly organized motorcycle club chapter with strict chapter rules and a deeply revered caste of social status within the group. My friend was a member in good standing but he had no special attributes, which basically meant he hadn’t earned upper club status through doing time in prison, beating the hell out of a rival club member, or earning the ultimate title of ITCB. That essentially intimated that the person removed an obstacle for a higher up. I Took Care Of Business (ITCB) loosely translates to I’m a homicidal maniac and if you fuck with any officer of our brotherhood you’ll be dead before you can apologize. Archie was a kind and mellow friend back in the day so it came as no surprise he hadn’t reached any of those statuses. Yet. He had however developed a certain air of violent behavior I hadn’t seen since we fought over Tonka toys and Lincoln Logs in kindergarten, and was quite intent of getting me to join his newfound club.

Archie explained to me how I could start off in the socially admired position of “hanger around”. The hanger around has literally no status with the club but is permitted to go on beer runs and clean up after parties to include numerous piles of stale beer stinking puke stains, piss puddles, and an array of DNA treasure troves so gross you don’t even want to guess at what they are or how they got where they did, let alone whom they belong to. As appealing as that sounded doubt had already begun churning up in my stomach. If you last past that for a year or two you may find yourself a member willing to sponsor you. Then you become a prospect and are allowed to begin proving yourself loyal. You do this in a number of ways which may involve getting into a fight with someone who disses the Infidel colors or someone’s bike, or by taking care of the wounded, and by becoming an official gopher and basically holding your head high while any and all members emasculate dissect embarrass harass and generally shit on you for everyone else’s amusement. Not able to wear colors as a prospect but at least no longer on DNA scrub detail unless there were no hanger arounds around. After that the levels and their status in the brotherhood vary but it sounded like a bloody violent and downright disgusting form of fraternal challenges that go on for a very long time before you earn the right to wear the patch, and add 1%er to you jacket. To be honest it sounded more like an unending audition for The Ultimate Jackass Movie featuring The Marquis De Sade.

But anyway I was here as a guest not a hopeful wannabe outlaw on two wheels despite the promise of oodles of drinking, smoking, and ass kicking. Besides, by the look of these behemoth brutes in this safe house it would more than likely my ass that would be on the kicked end and I‘m just not a fan of having my face nor my ass bloodied up. So it was with a modicum or more of trepidation that I joined in the fun we, or at least they were having. For lunch we had a six pack of Pabst Blue Ribbon premium beer. Aside from my sarcasm PBR’s were a staple not only with the biker crowd but also with the middle class kids that never got allowances so it wasn’t actually out of my social stratus anyway. The shit was cheap and good, two qualities us young know it all dudes liked in both beer and women. So it wasn’t an unfamiliar lunch but considering I was being “kept safe” it did lack a certain nourishment. That aside, it did take the edge off which was helping me get through my 3 days of safe house rehab. So the lunch was good but lacked any substance, but dinner hadn’t yet been considered. For dinner we had two six packs of PBR’s which while not much in the way of real vitamin intake it was jam packed with psychological vitamins. By seven o’clock my head was so numb nothing else mattered, which was after all why I was there in the first place.

I’m guessing it was more of Archie’s girlfriend, or “Chick” or “Mama” Lauren who decided we all needed something solid in our stomachs but at any rate at around 1AM or so Archie, Lauren, another couple who I won’t make a fake name for because I have no clue what their real names are anyway all packed in to a cage(a non motorcycle four wheeled vehicle) and headed out to a dinner. To the best of my compromised recollection I ordered Belgian Waffles. I say this because both Archie and :Lauren laughed their respective asses of the next day telling me I kept calling them belching waffles because my PBR diet had caused an enormous excess of gas.

The truth is I have very little memory of the diner or the waffles let alone any clue as to what I may or may not have said. Suffice to say it was an interesting first safe day with the Infidel Motorcycle Club who were all compassionate endearing, and even charming when away from the perils of everyday life among the citizens. I am forever in debt to to them for holding my hand through a very tough period of not just the three days I had hoped for but extending my safe visit for a five day experience I needed. That group of outstanding if intimidating riders helped me move on with my life free from at least one evil that no longer had it’s deep claws stuck into my circulatory system. Archie and I lost contact again but I have heard that he has since passed, and I haven’t a clue what became of Lauren or any one of the beautiful souls who saw me through my predicament but still I will love them forever.

Peace