2 Search Results for "monkey"

• Angry Monkey Angry Monkey

  • From: lardonbarrel
  • Description:
    maybe it is cursed?
  • 1 year ago
  • Views: 183
  • Not yet rated

• PERSONAL: A Life Changing Expe PERSONAL: A Life Changing Experience

  • From: Chakazuluu
  • Description:

    So, here I am sleeping on the banks of a wash (so I think) in Tucson Az after consuming large amounts of crack and copious amounts of beer (to get to sleep). I am dreaming of my miss-adventures of the previous night of being paranoid and suspicious of every real or imagined sound that the desert produces. I see myself firing my .44 at all the miniature cops, FBI agents and other government task force members (they have all been shrunk to about two feet especially for the task) assigned to take me down. I can here my self screaming "I know you are out there I can here you skittering around trying to get in close, your not going to take me down". I can here the echoing reports of that cannon which is my .44 Magnum. I can see the five boxes of shells sitting beside me which I acquired specifically for an emergency like this. I knew this was going to go down soon because I could here them planning there strategy in low whispers under the floor of the beds of various hotels I occasionally stayed in.

     Suddenly I start to waken feeling a choking sensation, I open my eyes and I am under about two feet of water. It had rained while I was asleep and washed the bank I was sleeping on with me into the wash. I struggled to rise and could not because my sheets and blanket was wrapped about my feet. I looked out of the water and there above me was a black man at my feet bending down and reaching his hand toward mine. He pulled me out of the water.

     His description is worth mentioning here because it struck me that he looked older than anyone could possible look. He was about a foot and a half shorter than I was, he wore denim pants, a denim prison jacket, and floppy denim hat and had a bedroll tied with a leather strap over his shoulder. But his face is what struck me it was creviced with unmanageable age and I could not tell the color of his eyes they seem to flicker from light brown to dark black.

     He waggled his finger in my face and said "I was originally told that it is your time but something just now changed it's mine". I said wait a minute and I bent down to unwrap my bed clothes from around my legs and when I finally looked up (it was only about ten seconds or less) he was gone. I mean that it was as if he had not been there. I ran up on the bank and looked all around, no body to be seen. I looked in the sand and dirt around both banks, surely anyone who had stood in the water would leave some sort of wet prints. All I found was mine.

     Jump forward about two weeks,

     I am sitting in a hotel with a some time crack smoking girlfriend and I am seriously stuck on stupid. We were nearing the end of two eight balls which I had rocked up in a mason jar and I am setting in this chair and cannot move. I need to go to the bathroom bad and can't. She is talking a mile a minute as she is wont to do when she is high but her voice starts to fade in to a background murmur as another voice slowly comes into the foreground in my head.

     It is the voice of the old man in the wash. What is happening here? I am a prisoner in my own head. I can't move I can't shut the voice out; I can't do anything but have this running conversation with some old black haint in my head. He describes to me how I have degenerated to a crack smoking, gun toting feral predator, with food stains on my clothes that I haven't changed for a month. I counter with this and he says that, we go on for an hour or more and I can't escape the logic of his presentation. I suddenly feel naked to the world, I have been laid bare, all that I was, all that I am comes in perspective with the dreadful future that is to come, if indeed there is actually going to be a future for me. At that moment of realization, at that point of momentary clarity I realized that I needed to do some thing different or I would be lost. My mind was already going; I knew that I was not what I was.

     Suddenly the ability to move came back to me as if some invisible straps were released and I stood up. She asked me what I am doing I informed her "I have got to get this monkey off my back, what do you want to do". She replied "I want to get another eight ball". I walked out of the hotel and never saw her again.

     
    I found a pay phone and called a very, very close friend of mine and told her my predicament and all that I have gone through and that I have no Idea how to get out of this. She made all the preliminary decisions for me until I was able to do them myself. She took me to the Primavera Shelter for men from which I went to the Veteran's Administration Substance Abuse Treatment Unit as soon as they had a slot open for me.

     Now I was on my way back again.

  • Blog post
  • 2 years ago
  • Views: 55
  • Not yet rated