Monday, April 22, 2019

i was in the salt baths at miracle hill sitting there in an envelope of steam with dr. crack. he was sipping on some expensive wines, two glasses at once, while i made do with my joint which kept extinguishing itself. i reached over to the lighter and attempted to relight the tip.
'you need a new vice mission.'
'yeah what you offering me?'
'well, drinking expensive wines.'
'who will drive you home if i start drinking?'
'ah good point mission. what about sex with dangerous women?'
'love would be more risky?'
'ah fuck, you extremist mission.'
a woman enters and asks if there is anything we need, drinks, massage, company, sex, a phone, towels, food or music.
'nope, we are fine,' i say as i spark up my spliff.
it's just a little organic weed that hits my system, perfect for the release of tension and pain. i slide back into the water and lay back dropping my shoulders and feeling the perfect release of stress. 
a sublime energy inebriates me, my body feels floppy and light, my mind floats as if lifted by helium filled balloons. i attempt to say something but the words slip out in elongated rubber.
somethings wrong, i look at crack.
'oh, i did slip something into your mix mission, should be taking effect about now.'
yeah that would be right. i have to laugh but my lips are to relaxed, i try to point a finger at him but my hand will not work.
my body turns to jelly and eyes close.

whomever these women are they are doing some invasive surgery upon me, waving their wands above my chest and moving things around in some pranic energy field. i've seen all this before, i know what they are doing being a pranic man myself. however there's something slightly left field about the two women who work over me. 
i tune in to the energy field and see they are operating in green light, my chest, heart. fingers nimbly tweaking fragile components and pulses in the chakra. 
although i can't move my mouth is working, 'what are you doing?'
'ah just completing a job.'
'what job?'
'one we were paid handsomely for.'
'what's the job.'
'oh fuck.'

later in the baths i seem to come around from a deep sleep, crack is finishing up his fifth bottle and looks slightly deranged.
'ah welcome back mission, feeling nice and relaxed?'
'i know what you did you fucking freakazoid.'
'love's hardly a vice is it?'
'ah that depends on the significance you attach to the value of a vice. don't get me wrong it's a virtue as well.'
'i'm to drunk to even care what love is, it's just some thing people say but never actually do. who you going to fall in love with mission?'
'i'm don't trust myself to fall for anyone. i'll use magick, ask a broker. safer and more in alignment with my nature.'
'your far to clever for your own good mission. you should drink more alcohol, its what all the people do when they need to lubricate their social lives.'
'ah i have a healthy collection of vices and virtues thank you and some very good lubrication.'
'well i'm still not sure love counts as a vice, lust would be better.'
'depends on whom i fall in love with, after all love and lust are the good combination and lust is so much better with love.' 
the dr. looks at me with his droopy drunk eyes, 'i love you mission. good luck asking the universe but always be careful what you wish for.'
'i always care for what i wish for.'
crack chuckles to himself and closes his eyes. his big bald fat head leans back and i watch his chest rise and fall, glistening with water and oils. 
his lips open and he mumbles something, 'hang on tight mission, and let go.'

No comments: