bloody paintings for vain wanton flesh
2 Tempora paint and Hallucinogens
3 1991 Imp-lick-cations
Everything was slowly dieing out. Thats good. Good is bad. Bad is good. Now we are dieing. That bitter rain sweats from the sky. Music of the damned
Telly Svatmo walked down the street quickly , rain was on the way. He lit a dagga cigarette, mixed with spearmint and catnip. The paper for the ciggy was a thick brown own dipped in cinnamon oil, and sprinkled with clove powder, a very dynamic tasting smoke. He was not looking forward to arriving where he was going, but didn't want to get that dirty polluted rain on him either, that stuff can stain your skin for days.
Marc Chamops sniffed a fine bits of grey powder from his emarald and ivory snuff bullet. When the stuff drained into his sinus he always snarled like a vicious dog, the veins on his neck popping up.
Telly Svatmo stood before the rusted out red door, he flicked the butt of his smoke away and knocked. Telly waited two minutes and then he heard footsteps approaching the door from the other side. The door creaked open and there stood Marc smiling down at Telly. "Hey little man, come on in!", Marc's huge hand slapped Telly's back. Telly followed the man down a crumbling plaster hall, some of the floorboards were loose and they made wooden whines as the crossed over to the boarded up, crudely reinforced door. They went inside, a half poldakian man with brilliant red tribal tattoos all over his blue face stood guard with a shotgun. "The usual then?", Marc asked.
Super size it!", Telly grinned handing his contact eighty dollars. "Have a seat, wait here, I'll be back in a few". Telly went over to the ratty couch and sat down. He lit up a cigarette and offered one to the guard, the guard nodded and Telly gave him one. The guard grinned when the taste hit him, he nodded happily to Telly. Telly finished his ciggy, threw it to the floor and stamped on it as he saw the guard do. Now Telly just waited on that filthy couch for Dude's return. Time dragged on some more, Telly lit another cig, and handed one to the guard. Still the wait dragged on, Telly would leave if he hadn't already handed over the cash. He wished he had brought a book, or better yet, one of those portable d v d players with a fold up video screen, and a couple of movies. After about an hour and a half Telly began getting really impatient. "Does he often take this long?", Telly asked the poldakian guard, the guard just spoke some poldaki to make like he does not understand english.
Marc headed out with the money, he had to go see Smiles in his dark apartment in the building's murky basement. Only a few of the lights worked down here, it was the cheapest of the cheap apartments, with roaches all over the place, and a stink of urine and shit that taints your blood to smell.
God Damnit! Telly thought, I need a burger and frys and a two and a half hour nap.
Marc flicked on his flashlight, shone it on the dirty debris cluttered floor, he stepped around a dead rat.
Telly wished he had a cell phone so he could call someone. He stared at the wall awhile and ended up asleep on the couch. The couch was too small and smelled of junkies waiting for thier fix. He drooled a bit on the couch as he lasped directly into rapid eye movement. In his dream his is walking down a run down street very late at night. Someone was walking behind him, then he knows it is a small group of someones. He walks a little faster, crows keep jumping into the air all around him, a cold rain begins falling down. Deep fear strikes him, he realizes he has walked into a dead end and must turn around and face those following behind him. In his dream Telly wheels and sees a group of leering faggots, some are fishing out over sized cocks. "Lets fuck him!", the leader cheers. The gays rush Telly, running at full speed, huge erections bopping up and down as they go , Telly started awake with a gasp of terror. The new guard was looking at him oddly, Telly wandered how long he had been asleep. He wiped off the spittle and sat up straight. Telly yawned and shook his head. The same guard as before was standing by the door. Now Telly was getting pretty pissed off.
Marc lit the way to the heavy reinforced door of Havick Norgowl's chem lab. He knocked loudly, knowing dude liked to play his stereo loud sometimes, and other times he fell into heavy sleeps. No answer, Marc checked the door, it was unlocked, he went inside. A strong smell of chemicals hit him, the stench was bad outside in the hall, here it made him feel light headed. The walls rocked with the deep bass gangsta rap Havick listened to night and day. Dude only had about twenty cd's and there was always one of them going on. Mark went into the living room, dimly lit by a couple black lights. He turned the stereo way down and yelled "Hey Havick! , are you home? It's Marc!"
Telly fired up another ciggy, didn't offer the new guard one, he was mad. A very nice taste, he must buy more of these from the specialsmokz.com website. maybe the shaman tabacco cigars laced with peppermint as well.
Marc heard an odd sound coming from the bedroom , he walked slowly towards it, it sounded like somebody ravenously eating something wet.
Telly threw the cig onto the cement floor and let it smolder out, he lit another one, he swore it would not wait past this second cig. Telly got up and paced as the cig hit the half way point, ashing on the floor at intervals, the guard look on bored, holding the shotgun the other had been holding earlier. Telly flicked the cig against the wall, it sparked and sputtered out on the dirty floor.
"Hey!" , "It's Marc, can you hook me up?" , Marc yelled as he walked to the bedroom.
Telly wandered if something bad had happened to Marc and the money Telly had given him, if he didn't get the stuff he payed for, he would only have enough money to eat three times in the five days till payday.
The only lighting in Norgowl's bedroom was from a filty neon elvis grabbing it's crotch, the the blue lights switch to the red ones where he's wailing into the mike. That, and a casper the friendly ghost nite light. Hunched in the corner somebody was indeed ravanously chewing and swallowing something. Marc's heart began jackhammering, the drugs have weakened it somewhat. "Havick? Is that you?", Marc asked already starting to back out of the bedroom. The man in the corner whirled around and roared a wet gurgling roar, like a lion filled with snot. March could'nt tell who it was, he was too covered in blood, strips of raw meat hanging from his chewing mouth. Marc yelped and began to back pedal, it seemed that time had slown down and he was moveing in slow motion. His only thought was Havick has gone insane on research chemicals and has become a cannibal! Marc slammed into the wall behind him and slid down it, the growling pale faced zombie once known as Havick was on him, when Marc threw up his arms, Havick grabbed one and bit it hard, tearing open flesh, a trickle of blood starting all along the damaged edges.
That was fucking well enough! Telly got up and walked towards the door, the guard stepped aside for him Telly was burning with rage. He kicked a crumbled Mcdonald's sack in the hall and stomped down the hall, his head red with rage, eighty fucking dollars! He passed a drunk and homeless looking black man in the hall, they exchanged glares at eachother. This mood thing was not bringing Telly many new friends.
Marc pushed the chewing corpse off him and wheeled around to run, the thing had hold of his shirt!
The elevator was out of order, it was the stairs for Telly, he walked with his fists clenched, pissed at the world. He was damned well gonna come back in a couple hours and check back.
Marc hit the chomping bastard three times hard in the face, the third time, it caught his fist in it's mouth and began chewing ravanously. Marc screamed bloody murder and wrestled himself free, he pushed the thing down and ran down the hall still screaming. Both of Marc's hands were bleeding, the thing roared and shuffled after him, Marc ran, kicking a dead rat aside and nearly tripping over a bag of garbage. he went for the stairs. He outdistanced the growling thing behind him and made it the the ground floor, but he was going into shock, he found his way into a broom closet and closed the door behind himself. He closed the door to the basement and pushed a ratty couch in front. He then vomited for four hard painfull minutes. The place was like a freezer, he shivered and hugged himself, huddled in the dark closet, shakeing with fear.
Telly went downstairs to the bottem floor and stalked out into the street, he lit a ciggy as he went down the street. He walked home, let himself in with his last copy of the housekey.
Marc heard a awkward shuffling step come down the hall, and a low groaning, a phlemy sounding groan. He tryed to remain silent and still, but he was shakeing bad and he couldn't control it, all the same the footsteps shambled on down the hall, Marc felt like headed, and was out , crumbling to the floor. He gasped and choked on bloody phlem, he shook violently and felt pain like never before., this went on for about twelve minutes and he lay still. Within five minutes he was dead, but he began twitching again. His body rose and shambled to the closet door, the thing began fumbling at it, unable to work it's hands proper. Finally it got lucky, and the knob turned, the drug dealer formally known as Marc walk out into the hall with the sensation in it's dead brain of intence painful hunger, the jaw began working on it's own. The Marc thing went to a door where it could vaguely sense activity. It pushed and rattled at the door, moaning. Inside the apartment Lu Nix was smoking a cigarette and fighting with his pregnant wife Claire.
Telly checked his caller i d . No calls. He drank the last beer from the fridge, his blood raceing in his ears. That money was supposed to buy the dope for him to sell, use his stuff for free and make about twenty dollers with.
UnMarc kept fumbling at the locked door, bumping his dead body against it. Inside Lu was getting pissed. "Who the fuck is it?" , he yelled.
Telly was beyond angry, he couldn't face it. He was going to have to pawn something or go hungry most of the week till pay day. But he had little left to pawn. He opened his bedside drawer and pulled up the .22 handgun his father had given him for his twenty-first birthday. He shoved a handful of extra bullets in his pocket. He heard a knock on his door. Telly shoved the gun into his pants and opened the door. It was his old buddy Chale Jade. Chale was a big bull of mexicen man power, thick and drunk. "Chale!" , Telly grinned as he was scooped up and lifted off the ground, "How the hell are you?".
Lu was pissed, "Fuck off!", he yelled to the face he saw in the door's peephole, the glass was dirty and cracked, he could only tell that it was a white male at the door.
"I'm drunk and horny just like old times!" , Chale told him. The muscular mexicen then whipped out a half smoked joint. " And I'm high" , Chale added. Chale pulled a battered zippo from his pocket and lit the half joint, puffs of fragrent smoke billowed out as he puffed and handed it to Telly.
Lu grabed the baseball bat he kept by the door. "Go the fuck away or I'll fucking bash your head in fucker!", Lu yelled through the door as the man on the other side kept moaning and fumbling at the door.
Telly and Chale smoked the joint down to nothing, much of Telly's anger fizzed away, but he was still mad. Chale dropped the smokeing paper into the ashtray and took a long swallow off his beer. "Man , I think I got ripped off" , Telly said mournfully. "No shit, where, lets go kick some ass!", Chale subjested. Chale stood up ready to go. "Yeah, lets go then, but be careful, the guard has a shotgun". The two left Telly's house, Chale got behind the wheel while draining a beer. He pulled a handgun out of the glove compartment. "Dude, don't just go in shooting, maybe I can get the drugs without any violence, maybe dude got sidetracted and my dope is waiting there for me now". "Yeah sure, lets go", Chale said. "Alright".
"Alright motherfucker! You've been fucking warned!", Lu screamed as he swung the door open. Unmarc immediatly stumbled in. Lu swung the bat hard striking unMarc full on in the face, the undead ex drug dealer fell to the floor with a thud.
"How many beers have you had tonight", Telly asked his wasted friend. "We just finished a case", Chale said, fumbling in his pants for his lighter and swirving about the road. "Here, I'll hold the wheel while you do that".
"Home run!" , Lu cheered. As Lu put the bat back down in the corner of the door and turned to drag the bastard outside he was jumped by Unmarc.
Karan Anne Mills lay back in bed, with a muscular young man twelve years younger than she. She liked em young and stupid, manipulate, fuck, and throw em away, aways another fish on the line when your rich and pretty.She still felt amped from the all that coke and meth the evening had provided. When the stud fell into a peacefull slumber, she got out of bed to to some housework. After cleaning her living room for eighteen minutes, Karan went to the bathroom where she pulled out her stash from it's hiding place behind the toilet.
In a new city wide law, the alergy/sleep aid medicine sleepynosneeze has been put behind all counters and not sold to anyone under twenty one. Too many teenagers have been buying or stealing, taking a whole box, or even more and going on delirious drug trips. Some really hard core kids had devised a way to extract the potant chemical wk-39AkGd from the medicine. The sticky black gum can be ingested or smoked for a over powering ten minute high. A few accidents have resulted in out of control sleep e sneezin, as the kids call it. One fatal accident, Walden Gleckmord, sixteen drove his car into a train at seventy miles an hour under the influence of the medicine.
Karan shot some primo cocaine into her arm and moaned with joy. She dry heaved over the toilet, brushed her teeth, and put on a pair of shorts.
A new hot indie rock band, The sleeping sneezes, openly ingests the pills in their videos, and at live concerts, and they toss out buckets of them to the mosh pit.
Karan tooted a couple lines of crystal meth, and felt the bitter drain begin, she felt energized, so she made a nice breakfast, eggs bacon, toast, freeze squeezed orange juice.
There was a lot of talk in the media about taking sleepingnosneaze off the market all together, and it already was said that if done, Mexico had a big supply all ready to bring in by the kilo. Child star Kevin Littersberg, from the show "were your kids, now feed us", was in the news recently for overdosing on the pills and appearing on the set naked in front of a live audience. Apparently he pee'd on the carpet of the show's living room and their are videos of it downloadable on the internet.
Before the day started for Jeff he was fast asleep and having a series of short dreams. He was in his old grade school with all third grade class. Only he was full grown adult and they were all little children still, skeletons marched down the school hall causing Jeff to throw his head back in a long cackling laugh. Jeff's alarm gave a irritating whine and the dream faded away. Jeff reached a tired hand out to slap to snooze button, but instead he merely turned the alarm completely off and drifted warmly back to sleep under the wall of blankets. A hour and a half went by while his dreaming brain explored sensual delirium. Finally he opened his eyes and looked at his digital alarm clock. He was supposed to be at work an hour and fifteen minutes ago! Jeff worked his way out of the tangle of covers he had spun himself into during those frenzied dreams. It proved to be a difficult task, he almost gave up and went back to sleep. Finally Jeff extracted himsself from the covers. He nearly tripped over his cat Eon as it lay sleeping in front of the bed. The cat yelled and ran off, Jeff used the onwardly rushing wall to steady himself. On to the bathroom, once stubbing his toe on the phone book he had left on the floor the night before when he was drunk. Jeff remembered fishing the phone book from behind the couch, but not calling anyone. He kicked the book into the corner where it would be less likely to stub him the second time. Jeff limped into the bathroom for a long high pressure piss. Jeff then went back into his bedroom and opened the top chest of drawers compartment. No clean underwear dammit. He opened his closet door and selected a pair of pants to slip on. Now a shirt, he picked out the black shirt with the evil looking eyeball staring from the chest. Next came socks, a green one and a black one was all he had clean, the black one had holes in it, and his skin showing through looked shockingly white. Now for my wallet, Jeff looked for it on his bedside table, not there, then he searched the jeans he had been wearing the night before. Not there either. "Gawd dammit!", he cursed as he began trashing his already trashed home in search. After five minutes he found the wallet under a Os Mutantes c d. At least the car keys where on the bathroom sink top and he scoped them up, pried on his jacket, and stepped outside checking once to be sure he locked the door.
His car waited for him outside, a rusted out hearse with a faded "Shit happens" bumper sticker. Jeff unlocked the thing and slide in. Then he slide in the key and turned it to a deep motor throb fanfare. He drove fast doing fifty in a forty when the red flashing lights appeared behind him. "Fucking fuck", Jeff said aloud. Jeff pulled over knowing he could hardly outrun the law in his sputtering Yugo. Next came that long wait, as the officer checked his i d with various databases like the Information Awareness bureau for anything that might make him bustable. They were still working out the kinks in this national database system and the check could take forty five minutes to complete. Finally the officer walked up to Jeff's car, which had died about five minutes ago. Jeff rolled down the window and handed out his papers, all fifteen different cards and documents. "In a hurry there girly", the officer said, "looks like you have a ticket coming to you for speeding, plus another for an overdue book you checked out of the library and on top of that a fifteen dollar service charge to be payed to me for pulling you over."The police officer held out his hand for payment. Jeff fished out his wallet and all he had was a twenty. He handed to the man expecting change.
"I don't have change for a twenty, I'll just have to keep the whole thing, unless you have a problem with that.", the officer said as he put his hand on his gun.
"Keep it", Jeff said bitterly.
Fucking government assholes! Fuck those fascist bastards. Jeff wished the terrorists would poison the whole fuckin country, it has become a big piece of shit anyway. God fucking Damn. I just want the bad to suffer and the good to get off on it, is that asking too much?
Meanwhile food hoarding has started. ..
Ash McCann had made a small fortune in new Wichita running dope. He had gotten into it when the city was brand new and all sorts of interesting unclassified plants fetched tourist and other's attention and money. This legal , gray and oftentimes illegal trade cost him his very freedom. He was caught growing high grade opium and drug labbing it into a fine quality heroin. They took his farm and all he owned and through him in a distant.This is the story of how he escaped and of his run from authorities who hunted him. Novagun was a harsh prison thirty miles from the city , on a island full of hostile animals, across carnivore fish and snake infested waters , into a swamp land full of hazards , many still unclassified. Thirty years in a steamy insect over run hell. The only good thing about it was that the Poldacs who made up seventy percent of the prison population seldom practiced the anal rape ritual so common in jails back in the old country. It sucked waking up several times a night to the searing pain of a island bite , to slap the fist sized armored bastard off you and then crush it under your shoe , now stained with bug guts It sucked to have to stand aside as a group of blue boys took up the whole hall , either that or be violently assaulted later several on one. His new white boy friend Cheese Talbert got stabbed by them and was still recovering in the prison infirmary , itself Ash had heard stories of. That fall the government had decided that the poldacs could no longer practice they're big fall ritual festival in prison. This resulted in a riot.. Ash found the dead body of a guard and slipped into his slightly too large clothes. From there he ran for his life from the Poldacs as the guards before him shot round after round of heat seeking rubber bullets. No one noticed he wasn't a guard , so he just slipped away , and made it to the outside. He looked back at the walls of his former home and smiled. Now to cross the water and then the swamp land ahead. He took to the water at a run and swam as hard as he could , the shore was just five hundred feet away. From the walls above the poldacs were throwing dead and wounded bodies of the guards into the water. Ash was in luck , the meat eaters slithered and swam that way and the screams of the wounded said they were feasting. Ash swam as fast as he could , his arms and legs would hate him for it later , hate him bad. Sometimes he would tangle in the reeds and thick moss , Ash fought his way free each time. Some unseen suckered things tried to attach themselves to him and he fought them free. He could see shore getting closer , his feet touched something big and slimy and they stank for three days afterwards , soon he was ashore , looking back over his shoulder for signs of pursuit. No sign of anyone , he walked into the steaming jungle and never seemed to dry off from the water , a horrible stench arose from his feet where green mold had infested his shoes. Streaming across the sky came a government helicopter , no doupt holding reinforcements and crowd control agents.
Back at the prison the helicopter was spewing a chemical foam that made the rioters exposed to it get overwhelmed by a mentally dulling heavy lethargic daze. They walked about like zombies. Most dropped the weapons they had taken off dead guards. The back up team located the remaining guards and gave them injections to relieve the effects of the zombies gas.
Ash took is sweat soaked shirt off as he headed deeper into the jungle, he felt alright other than the oppressive humidity of this place and he felt he needed to just pick a direction and keep going, better to live or die in the jungle than be a slave for the rest of his days. His shirt was tied around his waste, he kept sweating and sweating, odd colored bugs swarmed him, dipped and bit. He most have swatted eighty of them already.
Skipp Pepperlanc has had a scorching He has had a day that will live in infamy. You could say it was rough. The set things to the right mood it must first be pointed out that Skipp lives in the dreaded Bubbling Vomit Land. He has been unable to return home to Wichita for nearly two years now do to the roads haveng melted and the planes being unable to fly over and land due to the sticky sky's over this desolate county. He had come here as a flight switch off back when The B V L airport was still fully functional, there was a massive grease fire but gutted the place, Skipp barely got out alive.
This place sucks! No cable vision anywhere and the t v stations all come in fuzzy and full of signal loss distortion from the radio-magnetic field the surrounds bubbling vomit land and interferes with signals. The radio doesn't come in at all. Stuck in this miserable place with only seventy five dollars and a eighth of weed to get me by. Mail gets in and out here via catapult, it is launched in a big block across the untravalable area to land hopefully on safe ground just beyond. The occasional block of mail sinks into the bubbling road, or splashes into the river of fire and is immediately burned. The sharp Oder of burned cells, a by-product of Skipp's swan dive into caffeine abuse, free basing the stuff now, he is. It was really hard to get a job here, seems nobody wants to hire an outsider. Although it seems the at least half of the population are outsiders who got stuck here like Skipp. On Skipp's first day stuck here he wandered about the town of Skaggit for hours. He bought a couple muffins from a street vendor and chewed away their staleness while taking in this unhappy town. The girls here are kinda chunky and ill kept. giant spray painted penis's and hanging dangling attempting breast art decorates many of the wall in this sullen town. I still remember that greasy feeling in my head, the feeling of being trapped in a unhealthy place, and having so little cash to see me through these alien times.
All this and more went through Skipp's head, at least he had some bud on him, this may well be what kept him from killing himself. He bought a can of beer and a lighter from the quick trip and he drank his lone beer in the park, washed the can out, waved it around to dry it, poked some holes in it to make a ghetto pipe. a crude but workable solution for not being high. He had not smoked in a day and a half. skip crept down an alley and smoked a couple choice buds from his sack. The buzz washed over him like a warm wave of friendly fear. A mystical air fell about the alley, it reminded Skipp of dreams in once had in his early twenties. Dreams of magical and dangerous places that could be found by side roads that seemingly only exist in his dreams. The air in those dreams felt like this now, and stoned out mystical experience. Skipp wandered around in that dismal town all night, and nothing seemed right. That morning he hid in a bushy area of the park and napped for two hours and fifteen minutes, until he was awakened by the licking tongue of a park goer's German Shepard. Skipp sat up and looked apon Miss Daphe Carzen and her dog, Miccalone.
"What are you doing sleeping all hidden in the bushes, ya freak", Daphe asked, in a tone of voice somewhere between scolding and flirty.
"I'm stuck here till they find a way to get me out, and I'm low on cash, so I decided to nap in the park, rather than to get a room".
"I've heard that story before, I mean seriously, I've heard multiple people with the same story, and no one ever leaves here".
"What the fuck?", I inquired.
"Nobody here, was actually born here, besides maybe a couple dozen kids".
"What?, then where the hell did the town come from then?".
"No one knows, this place did not exist on the map sixty years ago, I checked".
"Then what do you think is the purpose for this town of no return?".
"Lets talk it over a couple drinks at that bar across the street, The toxication lounge". The song "Road trip to the tomato strip", by Captain Fisher Dinelo was playing as they stepped inside and found a table in a dark candle lit corner.
"I once met Captain Fisher Dinelo?" , Skipp told her.
"Really?, How'd you meet Captain Fisher Dinelo?", She asked.
"Ah, this was long ago, in the spring mists of my home town". Skipp paused for a long drag off his beer. I was at this herbal buzz drug club called The Stash. They sold pipes and bongs, herbal mixes that gave you a mild buzz but of which the owners spoke of swirling highs and mystic experiences. The meth-oid tea made me pretty jittery and amped, but none of the alleged hallucinogenic drinks did anything more than give me a wierd upset stomach and mild sleepyness". Skipp took another swig of beer and then he continued, " So one night they have actually booked Captain Fisher Dinelo to play there with two members of his seven piece band". Skipp accepted the cigarette she offered him. "My friends knew Kub Howards, the somewhat shady man who ran this club and they went into the back room to score some weed from him and I followed. We smoked a cinnamon blunt while Kub weighed up my buddies ounce of weed. They're was a tiny tiny dressing room for the bands , and Captain Fisher came out of it saying that he smelled burning herb. Kub, acting so pompous "I'm so cool", handed Cap Fisher the blunt and Fisher took a long drag and then handed it to me. I did the same, handing it to my friend Chunks, who I now know that I shall never see again, dammit. The blunt was passed around until it was down to the plastic filter".
"Yes, go on". She really did look interested, but, after all, in a closed county they're are probaly few new people to focus on.
"Well, Captain Fisher is a expressive man with a purple eye patch, even though he isn't blind at all, he just likes eye patches. He always smells like chive dip it seems, he has bad teeth and a few acne scars". Skipp stubbed out the cigarette and leaned back, going into his best story telling mode. "well earlier that evening the owner, Kub, pissed of the local Vietnamese gang known as the yellow peril. A sore weed deal, where our asian brothers insisted on paying half price for a quarter pound of his local stock. He refused they threatened and departed. Now they were back driving by with guns a blazing. That was my first and only drive by experience, most of the rounds didn't make it past the brick walls of the place, but a few crashed in through the windows and hit the walls opposite. Me and a couple others were cut by shards of flying glass, but that was the worst of it. This caused much mayhem inside however, people scrambled out to escape the building, Kub hid his drugs and dirty paraphernalia up stairs somewhere and the cops where there in no time, I was half a block away and driving when they arrived in mass. No one there got busted though, the cops just took a statement and left".
"Crazy , I supposed that Captain Fisher Dinelo will never preform here".
"Well, he's dead now, so no, he won't".
"Dead! What happened?".
"Really? You never heard about that?".
"News travels slow in bubbling vomit land".
"I guess so, well, he toured Colombia and he grew very sick on the plane ride back, vomiting and then he lost consciousness. He was dead of a burst cocaine condom in his ass".
"That's fucked".
"Yeah, it is. Dude was a mule, he had six condoms in him, all filled with vary high grade coke".
"A shame".
"Are they're drugs available here in Bubbling Vomit land?".
"Some, but they are low quality and expensive, if not out right rip offs. Sometimes people bring in better stuff, or even catapult it through our mail-communication with the outside world process".
"I have some fairly nice weed, not much, but if you want, we could go some place and smoke". Her eyes lit up and she smiled broadly. Skipp knew he had made her day, and hopefully she would make his night.
"Let's go to my place then, no one will bother us there!". The left the bar together, gathering the German Shepard that was waiting patiently outside the bar and they walked to her small apartment a couple and a half blocks away. The dog would approach passers by quickly, jump up on them and sniff they're crotches, until Daphe would manage to pull the beast away. Oddly enough, it never sniffed my own personal crotch. Most of the houses and shops they passed had the look of nice expensive buildings only just starting to turn ghetto. Some gang slogans where spray painted here and there, Skipp once had to side step some still warm smelling vomit on the sidewalk. They entered her place and she lit up the red and orange funky lights of her living room. "Have a seat, and I'll fetch us a couple beers". Skipp did as he was told, he admired the late seventy's like look of the living room. The place smelled of an early evening incense burn, a musky minting scent, Skipp liked it. Daphe came back in with a couple of beers, as promised. Daphe sat next to him on the couch, the dog was sleeping in the kitchen, Skipp could just see it's head in the kitchen archway. Skipp cracked his beer and he broke up some weed on her glass coffee table while she twiddled the remote to get the local rock station playing a Doors song redone by some screamy bratty spiky haired band that had only just discovered cocaine and were already nose diving into the abyss with it. Skipp filled up his white stone pipe with the broken up bud and leaf and he handed it to Dapne for the honor of the first hit. She smiled a true radiant smile as she burned the herb and took in the smoke with happy fluttering eyes. She held it in with cute chokes that made Skipp smile. She handed him the pipe and their hands brushed together for a soft warm texture. Skipp took a hit enjoying what apparently is some of the very finest weed in Bubbling Vomit Land.
"Are they're any local plants around here that can get you high?", Skipp asked hopefully.
"Yeah, sort, of." , She said without much encouragement in her voice. Skipp waited for her to hit the pipe, she held it in a few seconds and let out the smoke with a cute cough. " They're are some mean fucked up plants that grow along the edge of the gas swamp, but I wouldn't recommended them".
"Why not?".
"They made my cousin Biff act really crazy, he ate some of the seed pods and he ended up naked and all cut up, full of thorns and stickers, and with white paint splashed over both his knees".