Sasquatch Approved!

March 23, 2017 at 10:40 am (Cosmic Encounters, Cussed Dumbers, Sweet sticky things)

Holy Cow

Aah, three-day weekend, how you taunt me. When I want you, I can never get you. When I want to immerse myself in work, you are there insisting. When I want to run off with a girl for a couple days? Oh, we can’t spare you…

I’m getting by, still getting used to being alone. This has been one of the easiest breakups ever, maybe because we’ve had so much practice? I am happy for Rain, and she seems happy. I’m supportive of her, and I’m glad someone is there to take care of her. Boy howdy.

But I also have to take care of myself. It would be easy to fall into over-medication, or have a few drinks. That’s not where I’m at. But I still wanted to cut loose. Is there anything left out there, weedwise, that will give me a buzz?

I found something while stocking up on vapor cartridges. I looked at the young budtender and asked, “I have gotten high off spaghetti sauce and chili, but beef jerky? Really?”

“Oh ho ho,” he chuckled wisely. “Look at the numbers, 150 mgs…”

“Seven dollars? I’ll take three.” If they sucked, I was out $20. If good? I have a new bestest friend.

There were eight pieces. They tasted like kippered beef, I had no idea how they got the drug on there, spray? Is this what my lungs look like? (I saw an ad for Motel Hell; human jerky has been on my mind…) I nibbled about a third, fifty milligrams. Repeated later on, it was a nice, even high. I hate having pepperoni breath, and bits of meat in my remaining teeth, but the slow-creeping buzz made up for these inconveniences. I saved a dose for work. Who knows, it may save someone’s life.

Life rolls on. I have been trying to pick up as many hours at work as possible. I chat with Dizzy. I helped Dr T pay his phone bill so I have someone to text randomly. (He was cool without a phone for a week, but apparently I wasn’t. He can catch up with me after payday.)

Festus has disappeared into the country. Maybe he quit paying his cell phone bill, I dunno. He’s quit talking to me.

The other residents of the burned-out hotel will visit, or text. One of the locals called me, all excited about some pills. When I looked up the numbers, it broke his heart. Those aren’t oxys, those are furosemide. AKA water pills. Talk about pissed!

Work has its share of drama. I’m just trying to keep my head low, be useful and productive. I was given yesterday off, freight day. I usually run a till and put stock away; it takes the whole shift but I have most done by lunch. My coworker, at 11 PM last night, was still knee-deep in cardboard, no idea how he was going to get it all done.

Well, I’m not going in early today. I figure I’ll get there about the time they get yesterday’s work done.

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