Another Little Piece
I had to cleanse myself of my booze addiction. I've not touched a drop for eighteen month. Not since I woke up naked on Hampstead Heath after a vodka binge a year-and-a-half ago.
I'm doing okay now, but the first couple of weeks into the not drinking was a nightmare. My body shook for a week after my last bottle of vodka. I heard voices and glanced after darting shadows and stretching darkness. My body felt like it had shrunk, and my brain was soaked in depression and confusion.
But maybe, I'm a liar. A cheat. Replacing one vice for another.
I put my twelve-skin reefer in my mouth, it was fuckin' huge! I built it like an ice-cream cone and when I lit it, it went up like an Olympic torch. I took a large drag and my lungs filled with brain-numbing skunk weed fumes. I exhaled, I blew out so much smoke, you'd swear I'd been set ablaze.
When I smoke weed it makes me so horny. Making my cock as angry as a Megalodon. It's better than Viagra. Most of the time, when I'm high, I'm trying to hide my hard on, wearing loose fitting jog pants; I have no place to put it: having no girlfriend and can't afford a brass every time my cock wants out.
I swapped a liquid addiction for a smoking one. My dealer is as clean as a laundered sheet. To myself, I call him Daz, it amuses me; his name is Simon.
Last week, when I was buying my stash from him, I was telling him of my younger days up North, when I was taking acid. He enjoyed my stories. When I bought from him yesterday, he told me he had put a bit extra in my wrap of weed. When I got home and opened the wrap, I found a tab of acid within. Shit! The last time I took acid was about thirty years ago.
It was a beautiful July morning. I was sitting in the garden drinking iced coke and smoking a joint, it wasn't Olympic sized, just run-of-the-mill sized. I had rolled six the same size as I was planning a walk on Hampstead Heath. I was off work for two weeks holiday, I'm visiting my brother in Scotland on Monday; we're both leaving for Amsterdam on Wednesday.
I took a long drag on my joint. I exhaled smoke from my nose and mouth, it fogged up the acid tab I was looking at in the palm of my hand. My heart was beating faster with anticipation of taking the tab, I palmed it into my mouth and washed it down with iced coke. I swallowed with a gulp and it was gone. I took a long drag of weed; I exhaled a long line of smoke looking up at the deep blue sky as the smoke drifted off into nothingness.
The day was airy and warm. I strolled onto the Heath, passed the ponds and up onto Parliament Hill. I stood at the summit of the hill and looked at the city of London and the tower at Canary Wharf. I turned and walked onto grass land, heading toward Golders Green. I felt as if my feet were sinking into the grass and that it was sticky and gooey, like a green treacle. My cock felt hard and my body buzzed, it was the LSD, it was starting to kick in.
I stepped off the sticky grass and onto a black tarmac path. I looked ahead and the path stretched out before me like long black rope, stretching into the distance. The birds singing about me became more pronounced, like someone had turned up the volume, it was sweet twitter but loud. I listened as I walked, it was rhythmic and melodic. I felt as if I had a little dance in my step, but hoped I didn't start skipping down the black tarmac path, like that scarecrow fucker in the Wizard of Oz.