As I walked from the crack house, I had to struggle with an overpowering urge to run to the brothel and slap the whole pile of hundreds on the counter. "Gimme the works! And make it snappy." I would say. But alas I couldn't. Half of this money was going to my partner Happ. He's the one that found the sack of crack rocks. I just knew how to get rid of it. Doesn't mean I can’t rip a couple bongloads with my buds at the dock.
I took a cab to the harbor and buzzed Igor's boat. He unlocked the gate and I cruised down.
“Holy shit bro, when’d you get the new boat?” I asked.
“Two weeks ago. Sold the old one to some rich fuk. He gave it to his kid as a birthday present.”
“Well shit, give me a tour.”
Igor led me downstairs. The place was titsteak. Everything was white with teak trim. The couches were white leather. Not the kind with the straps and buttons like an 80’s Cadillac, but smooth and firm. He showed me the master bedroom and the shitter. And then he paused.
“You’re gonna piss yourself when you see this.”
“Well, lets see it.”
He twisted a light fixture and a wall panel slid open. Smoke poured out of the hole. It was just big enough to crawl into.
“What the fuk you got back there? A dragon?”
“Ha. Shall we?” He gestured me toward the hole.
I crawled in and down a tube that was just wide enough to fit through. It opened into what must have been the bow of the boat.
“Wait for my Jer,” said Igor.
I hugged the wall while he dropped in. He hit a switch and the lights exploded on. Lazer beams crisscrossed in the smoke. There were several round beds and a large hookah in the middle of the room. Igor rang a bell and another door slid open. Six topless pixies rode in on unicycles.
“Take your pick holmes,” said Igor.
“Whoah. This is a little too much for me to process right now. I need a bongload first.”
Igor whistled three times in rapid fire. One of the pixies opened a drawer under the hookah and pulled out a handful of marijuana. She dropped it into the hookah and set some glowing charcoals on it.
“Don’t mind if I do.” I sat down on a little pillow and took a big pull on the mouthpiece. It was real smooth. The funny hit me instantly. I felt great. The hot pixies were smiling at me.
“I’ll take them all!”
“That’s a bit selfish of you, eh Jer?” said Igor.
“I got money.” I pulled out my roll and threw it to Igor.
He thumbed the bills and stuffed them into his pocket. “In that case…” Igor flipped another switch and the entire room started vibrating.
The pixies approached me in an erotic formation and slipped my shoes and shirt off. Igor left me to my own debauchery.
I woke up in a life raft floating in the middle of nowhere. My ballsak was swelled to triple it’s normal size, but one of my nuts was missing. I took an assessment of the rest of my body. Everything else was still there. I cursed to myself. I was naked, freezing, wet, missing my prized testicle and in the middle of nowhere. Everything that happened after Igor left was a blur.
The clouds above me were moving at a very rapid pace. I kept staring into them, thinking about the six pack of Hamms that was getting lonely back in my fridge. I would trade my remaining nut for one sip of that glorious beer right now. The clouds billowed into a large, fluffy pair of tits and started raining milk. I must be hallucinating, I thought to myself. Normally this would be a great thing. Normally I would see hippies throwing frizbees made of lava and trees bending into knots. But out in the middle of the ocean, I knew it could kill me. I tried to snap myself back to reality. The visions were too strong. I jumped out of the raft into the water, hoping the cold ocean would wake me up. It worked. I was back to my rational self.
My survival instinct took over. OK. What could I do first? I needed water and bong rips. There was some water collected in the bottom of the raft. I slurped it up. It tasted like dwarf piss. I gagged but kept it down.
Some music, sounded like reggae, seemed to come from somewhere. I paddled toward it with my hands. It was getting louder. I got the hiccups and almost barfed. The music was getting stronger. I kept paddling. In the distance I saw a small island. It looked like it had some trees. I waved my hands and yelled, but it only made me tired.
After paddling for another three hours I could make out the details of the island. It was small. There was a stand of very thin, tall trees. The music had died down since the sun started setting. Other than the music, though, there didn’t seem to be anyone on the island.
I paddled until I hit the shore. The island had a very pungent smell. A very familiar smell of chronic reefer. I inhaled as big as I could. Weed! MK Ultra or Hawaiian Snow. I was in heaven, I felt alive.
The weed plants were gigantic. I grabbed a huge bud and put it up to my nose. Perfection. I ate a bunch of it and then ripped off a branch. An alarm went off. I ran into the thick of it. The alarm kept beeping. I rubbed dirt in my hair and on my face. Something was crashing through the plants toward me. I dropped to the ground and tried to bury myself. Two dudes jumped out of a hydrofoil with blunderbusses.
“Gad dem farn rat carn ham bar nat gian tak,” said the one in the overalls.
“Prolly orn them fukin pole cats,” said the other one. He let off a couple of blasts and then they got back in their vehicle.
I stayed hidden in the ditch. When they were gone I made a bow-drill fire starter and sparked up the massive bud. I got so fukin high I couldn’t stop shaking.