The Parologue

[I Began writing this story years ago, based loosely on a mythical adventure set in modern time that fuses all religion and cultural affairs together with a strange guide named "sid and a young man named C- both of whom are on a quest to unit the "round table", or the "NAS" (new age shepherds) either way, it has an interesting premise. This book is titled, "The Trip."

~P.2, Parologue~

This was the summer of '08, hot and dry as it got on the left coast; the night was louder then the day, and the suburbs of los angeles echoed with a mix of crickets, gunfire, and police siren, all in a harmonic melody of discontent; you could almost feel the atmosphere inflating the zip as parker's faded ass fingers struggled to open what appeared to be the most complicated struggle of this millenia.
I had done it only once before in my life, and from what we could gather from the grapevine this shit was straight fire; west coast style, no bullshit- some dude had made it in his attic; some frankenstein ass fool with too much time on his hands and way too much product made stronger and stronger dosages, in a sort of cultish attempt to bring enlightenment to his fellow urban trippers: no one who took a hit of this and did it right came back the same man, he said; no one. You could be buddha, he said. No shit. Tell me about it.
So I'm with my boy parker, but we call him PK, fat cat, chill guy; probably stage one on the level of sketchy drug addicts, he probably couldn't tell a crack pipe from a glass pipe. Hustles harder than all of us combined though, and he loves for our party supplies- shit, I can't complain. I know for a fact though this fool never fried in his life; I was mildly anticipating if he was gonna serve his eggs easy, over hard, or scrambled- get me aha| Then there's bones, still whiter than white gets, but she's cool; reason we got this kickback on has to do with her relocation to vegas, or laughlin, or some other trailer trash desert town in the middle of fuck me hard Egypt, where dirtbikes and kmk each have a museum and a hall of fame, where dudes jerkoff to old episodes of baywatch and chicks sell kidneys to get breast augmentation, where kids want to grow up to be motorcycle technicians and buffet bus boys, which is the "NORM". She hates the willful ignorance; the drunken stupidity; the bullshit friends. Most of all, she hates the meth. Meth, meth, meth, meth meth. Problem is, that's what middle America is like- there are no more "small, wholesome, do-gooder towns like there used to be; (debatable) now we're all just one steaming pile of drug addicts and junkies, with varying levels of class involved. At least us 'city boys' aren't all tweaky and slang to kids to support a baaad habit.
None too son bones look at us, gave a smile and dropped her first tab. There was a silent cheers- a communion of sorts, before we both crossed the threshold between the two worlds.

---

I took the first tab and dropped it write between my front teeth and lips. I chewed on it every now and then, but most of the time it just lay there, plotting. Whatever it was, it0 was doing its thing. I was getting the hiffy jitters, the feeling that shakes you to the core. i was interested in what the night was going to have in store for me- something I usually don't think about. Wait a minute, what was I thinking about?

Then Suddenly

all of it

broke



loose!

I was mad out of control. I felt that my heart was spitting rat death into my veins- my brain was literally frying! I felt everything go through my body: cold, hot, anger, lust, love, pain, jealousy, sadness, happiness, complete and utter ecstasy and at the same time dissassociation, pain, complete and utter loneliness, fear, total unbelievable fear; it screamed at me with all the feelings in to a moment of total unequaled jump off an airplane; flying lower and lower altitudes but never ending just the same. At the speed of a thousand miles an hour and the distance of a thousand miles, I could barely tell where I was going to land. But I knew one thing was for certain: It wouldn't be the same place that I had left.