When I came back to reality I was making my way along somewhere near Downtown. It was late at night and the street-lights shined garishly down every yard or so of the sidewalk.

There were neither drivers nor pedestrians anywhere near me; and thank God for that. The only type of people that are out and about at these hours are freaks; gross, poorly made caricatures which only slightly resemble human beings . . . and, by God, I was one of them.

Now, for the big questions. Where am I? How did I end up in this bilious end of the city, this cliche stolen from a B Horror movie? The last thing I could remember was taking a good dose of acid. I must have been making my way through bat country for the past few hours.

Eventually I did come across another person. He looked nervous and fidgety, like someone taking their last stroll down the Green Mile.

A dead man walking.

"Hey, man," he began once we were finally close enough to where he wouldn't need to raise his voice. "You want some s**t?"

"No thanks," I said. "I'm in a big pile of it already." In no mood for idle conversation, I continued forward, cutting my way through the vines of the urban jungle.

The man grew a disgusted look on his face, and he hurled himself at me, twisting me toward him from my shoulders. He screamed, "You do NOT just walk away from me!"

That's when the LSD started to take effect again. He no longer had the face of a man, but of a horrible creature. Part lizard, part wolverine and part crazed lunatic on a crystal meth fueled road trip for Rock Bottom.

I could show no weakness. This was an atavistic showdown; there was no possible way of worming my way out of it. Centuries of inbreeding couldn't be undone in a single night just because I had no desire to participate. He was determined to once and for all find out which one of us had the bigger balls.

(To Be Continued)





Part Two: http://www.writerscafe.org/writing/MattHeston/1473843/