Walk back to campsite was kinda relaxing and the visions were down to a tolerable level….til the Eye o God opened up and roared at me. Hit my knees and started prayin.
Til I realized it was one o the over eager security guards, running at me with a flashlight.
Left him sleeping like a baby in the back of a pickup truck.
I decide to play Sherlock Holmes and Case of the Missin Mystery Fun Bottle o Pills but I aint get too far. Instead, i'm wonderin bout the AK74u and crate o ammo in my tent. Um.
I got nothin.
Cept I'm down one carton of Marlboro Reds. Did I…do a little barterin’?
Fuck it. Whadya know...first case closed. Time to celebrate. (and work on the problem of just having 3 packs of smokes left).
Ain’t feelin too hot. I gotta let the rst of this shit wear off. Feel like a fat mans undercarriage in august and smell about the same. Must be the Monkey God piss sweatin outta me.
Puke once and get back to pack 7. Sittin in time out. Thinkin bout life after my lil experiment overseas.
Started puttin in paperwork an job applications back in, hmm, I guess around aught six. Then there were occasional interviews after. A psych exam or two. Those were always fun (prolly the most fun I've ever had that didn't require xrays, kevlar, lawyers, antibiotics, epinephrine, or a fast bike and a prayer...or climbing down a tree naked for the matter)
My favorite question on the psych exams was "Do you have any hobbies or other interests?"
This one doc was like "Mr Grey...oxycontin is not a hobby."
An I said, well you ain't ever lived in Missouri, have ya?
Yeah, I didn't get that job. I's hoping I woulda made it to the next round, just to see the results of the piss test, wether it came out technicolored or not.
0400 or so
I guess I nodded off again cuz I wake up to Manoi chasing Carlos thru the campsite with my machete in one hand...an holdin his pants up w the other.
Yep, I gotta call Dr. Creed when I get back to the States.
I really hope this was all a dream. Might be. Guy can hope.