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Shaman, stoners and succubi: what the F’ did that French man make me smoke?

August 4, 2010

The day started with a dead cat right outside my tent. When I say dead I mean missing all of its limbs and its rib cage. Still less disturbing than another goddamn hard drive. I notice it has a collar with some tags, so I wipe some of the blood away and check the address. If there’s one thing I can depend on in this mission is consistency. For example, there’s no women, ever, and one thing always leads to the next. Whether a carefully orchestrated scheme by the “filmmakers”, or something more sinister, there is a pattern. So I go to the address.

Someone knows their three L's of real estate.

This wonderful Frenchman opens the door, and I’m thinking, “finally, a person that takes pride in their wardrobe.” I tell him about his cat, and he reacts like this is the hundredth pet he’s lost to the circle of life. When he invited me in for tea I was elated to be in the presence of another sophisticated soul for the first time since I’ve been on this awful job.

When he said that he is a bit of a collector himself and offered me the joint, I was almost in disbelief at my good fortune. That first hit was the intital hint of danger. It tasted like gasoline and poison oak. I looked to the contents of his drug satchel scattered about the small table.

A partial list.

Noticing my concern, he said the joint was something similar to salvia divinorum, but many of the psychoactive plants he had collected during his travels are a mystery to him. I took another hit to be polite. The trailer was starting to look like a steam room, and it became real clear real fast that this guy is one of those people that gets a little high and all of a sudden he thinks he’s Socrates. I’m trying to ignore the giant cockroach dancing on my arm while this guy is rattling on about metaphysics and inter-dimensional travel.

Suddenly the man pauses and asks me if I ever collect trash. I told him trash is relative. Like most people he found this perspective refreshing and clever, so he smiled and handed me a piece of yellowed, crumpled paper. He then stared intensely at something right behind me, as I pondered if what he handed to me could be defined as anything but garbage. Then the panic kicked in, and I couldn’t tell you exactly why I believed the stuff he gave me would help with anxiety, but I’m a guest in this gentlemen’s home and I’m doing my best to be cordial. A vortex of smoke, giant cockroaches and something about South American witch doctors encompasses me.

The Frenchman's drug dealer?

Time passes. I really couldn’t tell you how much, but at some point the French man couldn’t see me anymore and would only talk to the invisible thing sitting next to him. They seemed to be having a wonderful conversation when I fell out of the trailer, stumbled to the edge of a dark forest, where an ethereal woman emerged. Without saying a word, she gestured for me to follow her into the trees. At first hesitant, I turned around and there were several massive cockroaches converging on me. I followed the woman into the forest. We talked about our ambivelence for Paypal and how unrealistic most weapons handling in movies is, for what seemed like hours. Then we emerged at a majestic lake. She disrobed from her cloak and walked slowly into the water, gesturing for me to join her. I had no choice but to follow. Suddenly, she dissapeared into thin air, and I began to drown. Though I was a junior volunteer in Nave Seals for several years, time spent on land missions had caused my swimming abilities to atrophy. Death was imminent. And then suddenly my flailing arm struck something: a paddle boat. A jet ski narrowly missed me as I mustered all my strength and climbed the pink plastic of my savior. I noticed something in my clenched fist. Wet but legible, it was the old paper that French man handed to me. It had writing in another language, as well. I deducted that it was French.

My last text from Justin: “Workman’s comp doesn’t cover recreational drug use:)”. Still no word on payment but I’ve heard this is how the movie business works.

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