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SmokerForPeace

I had 1 bag of grass and a bong. My destination: Albuquerque, New Mexico. I pulled up to the bellboy, stoned ripped, twisted. Whatever you want to call it. Anything but sobriety. I toss the man my keys and tell him to send the bags up to my room. "What room?" He asked. 420 I said with an evil grin on my face. Was I really in room 420? I looked at my room key only to realize that it is the room key from another hotel in which I skipped out on the bill. Bills make me depressed. Time to check in I thought. "Stay here you dirty communist", I shout to the bellboy. Time to check in. Be cool, relax, and remember don't mix colors in the washing machine I said to myself. "Sir, Sir" the check in lady says to me, "How may I help you". "You can help me by getting me my room. My name is uhh... quick you dumb bastard, tell her your name. My name is, uhh... **** *********. Yes, we have been expecting you she says. Your room is 161. Your bags will be sent up shortly. "Thank you, you have done your country a great deal" I say as I toss her a quarter and casually make my way to my room. Time to smoke some grass and calm down. I pull out my trustworthy bong and quikly smoke a 1/8th. ****, this room is clam baked. Sweet Jesus, everything is spinning I yell as I pass out on my bed. Knocks on my door wake me up. I run to the peephole not knowing what to expect. Holy God! Its security I shout at the top of my lungs. His face frowns. I turn off all the lights and lay in a corner hoping the nightmare behind the door would soon vanish. Vanish like crack heads money. 10 minute later the knocking stops. I step out on my deck to take a breather. Fudge, security walks up to me. My eyes are reds I am swaying back and forth staring at him with a satanic smile on my twisted face. "Sir, we smelt smoke down the hallway. Is everything all right?" He asked. Yes everything is all right now I said. With the speed of a cheetah I slam my patio door on his face. I pack my things and make a run for my car. Next stop, Denver.

 

potheadreturns2

man that's some awesoume ****! Good job I want to read the one in denver!

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2

Pod

And the last thing he said to me was "when you write stoned... you never know what the **** is gonna turn up"

Case in point your crazy but amusing story.

SmokerForPeace

My 69 Mustang pulls up to a K-Mart in the middle of suburbia Colorado. I park my car 5 feet away from automatic sliding doors. What a great invention I thought to myself. We lazy Americans must have a machine open our goddamn door. An employee rushes up to me with the word fear written across his face. Timidly he tells me "sir move your car". "Shut up, you are obviously whack on crack". Sure my car is parked close to the door but who visits K-Mart at 3a.m. Freaks on bad acid trips and a few middle aged women looking for their hopes and dreams in a cheap bag of greasy potato chips. The employee realizes he can do nothing about my car, he leaves me alone and goes back to mopping the dirty floor. I am not here in the middle of the goddamn suburbs for nothing, I thought to myself. I am here on a mission. The mission is undefined as of now. "What mission you dumb bastard! There is no mission, you are just on a drug binge aimlessly wondering around the U.S.", I think to myself out loud. A Hispanic woman stops and stares at me and continues walking. For the rest of the night, she will wonder who was that man. What was he talking about at 3am inside Kmart? I walk to food aisle. The food is greasy; factory processed crap sold in a bag to the naive public. I grab a bag of pork rimes and head to the self-checkout. I pay for the food and walk back to my car. "Jesus, what is that mechanical object on my wheel" I yell as I walk to my car looking at the contraption on my wheel? Denver Boot it says. Piece of crap. This car had to many miles. I needed a new set of wheels anyways. Here Kmart have my car. Deal with moving the 10,000 piece of machinery, which sits in front of your doors. This city is best maneuvered by a cab anyways. I grab my bag of weed from my car. Only 2ozs left. Is there not a reasonable dealer in this town willing to sell a cheap ounce to another person pulled into a drug fiend. I need more weed and fast. These 2ozs will barely last me till next week. As I walk into the darkness of the parking lot I remember and old friend who moved to this area a while ago to get the pressure of DEA off his back in California. Indeed this friend is deeply involved in a serious drug collection. I look his name up in the phone bug. Next stop Hunters house.

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Cosmic Charley how do you do?
Truckin' in style along the avenue
Dumdeedumdee doodley doo
Go on home, your mama's calling you

SmokerForPeace

Thanx for the feed back you two. Wish I had more though. Should I continue the story or does it suck and you all are to nice to tell me.lol.

 

KWhite

Not bad.
But space your words a bit
it is very hard on the eyes the way youare typing it.

K

soybomb

I enjoyed the 2 first installments of this untitled story about driving around the USA on drugs. Reminds me of Fear and Loathing, oh well i still like it. I cant wait for the next part.

Freakish

Yeah it reminds me of Fear and Loathing too, its still good tho, I enjoyed reading it, you should continue it. I like the style as well, no spaces...sort of stream of conciousness feel to it.

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All of the above it true...except for the lies

imported_CaitiQ

"I think to myself out loud. A Hispanic woman stops and stares at me and continues walking. For the rest of the night, she will wonder who was that man. What was he talking about at 3am inside Kmart?"
Great line. Keep going. Could be very interesting.

SmokerForPeace

I ring the doorbell, wait 5 seconds, and ring it again. An old man answers the door. "Who the **** are you", he yells. "Hunter is that you," I respond. "Go home and wash up kid, your baked," he yells as he slams the door in my twisted face. Jesus, im lucky that man didn't answer that door with a wife beater and a shotgun, a deadly combination I think to myself. One by itself is managable, but two is downright dangerous. I begin to wander through an empty parking complex, looking in every corner for place to crash. What the hell is this? I say out loud. A matress in a dumpster. I quickly pick it up and hieve it on my shoulders. Now I need a place to put this beast. I end up putting it in a small park near the complex. I quickly fall asleep. I have been awake for 48 consecutive hours. At this stage exhaustion becomes a hallucinogen. Images are distorted, imaginary sounds are often heard. In my opinion exhaustion is the worst trip on the market. It can only go away by sleep. Something hard to come by in a party that never stops. My life is one constant party. Will it end by the police breaking it up, an overdose of drugs, or perhaps my body will get bored and leave one by one until I die and become another carcause 6 feet under the ground. I awake at 3pm the next day feeling refreshed. My highs are still running strong, but now I can enjoy them with an adequate amount of sleep. I decide to smoke a bowl of some grass. In a matter of minutes the effects of sweet mary jane hit me like a brick wall. I become lost in a state of euphoria. I drop a lit match, it falls fast to the ground. "Not good" I say to myself as I watch the match light ignite surrounding plants. With in seconds 100 square feet of dry plants are on fire. I attempt and fail to put it out. My only option now is to run like I have never ran before. The flames were six feet tall and smoke billowed to the sky as if 1000 people had all taken hits at the same time. I am far away before I hear sirens. "Dear god", what have I done. My heart fills with remorse. I quickly exstinguish this feeling, no use to feel bad, wasn't your fault my mind tells the growing pit in my stomach. The fire ran for 3 hours before it was finally put to sleep. I need to get the hell out of this town, if I want to live to see tomorrow.