Grit
01-17-2011, 04:58 PM
I get myself up at seven as usual and head into the bathroom attached to my room, locking the door on my way. Under my sink is an old Nestea bottle. In this Nestea bottle is a Fireball and Dr. Pepper mixture that is no doubt flat by now. It smells terrible, but I plug my nose and take a big gulp. Hey, it isn’t so bad actually. I drink eagerly but then start coughing; the liquid goes up into my sinuses where it burns. I dry heave, the whiskey overpowering my senses. I take a moment, and recover. Okay, I’m good again so I finish the rest, about a quarter bottle. I start dry heaving again, and almost empty my stomach into the toilet; luckily I keep it down like a real man.
After showering, brushing my teeth furiously and using Listerine, I walk into the kitchen. My mom’s using the toaster.
“Hey mom!” I say gleefully. The toaster pops.
“Hey sweetie.” She says. Then she transfers the almost-burnt toast to a near by plate, juggling them from hand to hand. She looks at me.
“Well, aren’t you chipper today.” She says affectionately. It’s true, I have a smile pasted on my face.
When I get to school it's boring as hell, the usual business but afterwards me and my buddy Dan walk into town. We head straight for the Drug Store, and I’m extremely excited. “What’s this drug again?” Dan says as we walk through the parking lot.
“DXM. OTC cough medicine. Makes you trip balls. It’s like acid but legal.”
“OTC?”
“Over the Counter.”
We enter the pharmacy and I walk straight for the pharmacist, but lose my nerve and veer off at the magazines. I pretend to look through the magazines, eyeing the pharmacist’s counter.
“What are you waiting for?” Dan asks.
“Someone’s buying something. I’m just gunna wait till they leave, cause otherwise it’s sketch.”
Dan starts to look real nervous. That’s the annoying thing about Dan, he’s got no self control. He’s always freaking out. Like this one time, when we smoked a ton of weed, it was righteous, but then I put on Pink Floyd’s The Wall. Five minutes later, after not saying anything, Dan asked me to turn it off. So I did. Another silent moment and then Dan stood up.
“Can you hear that?” I started laughing, cause I knew he was freaking out again.
“No, what?”
“People. Talking about us. You can’t hear them?”
I started laughing uncontrollably and Dan just left. Didn’t say a word, just walked right home. That’s Dan, always freaking out and acting crazy.
Anyway, since I’d mentioned it might be sketch, buying drugs from this lady who’s old enough to be my mom, Dan was freaking now. He was looking all over the place, and not saying anything.
“Maybe we should just go dude.”
“No way, we’ve gotta try DXM.”
Dan starts scratching his head and continues looking around like a smuggler checking into customs. I chuckle; Dan’s quite a unique guy, always overreacting.
I look back over at the counter, and no one’s there so I walk right up. If I hadn’t read all about it on the Internet the night before, I’d probably be super nervous, but I knew what I was doing was legal.
“Hello, could I get a dextromethorphan cough syrup please?” I ask politely. The woman looks at me for a moment, she’s got these really serious brown eyes, but then she goes into her treasure trove of chemicals and hands me a bag with a small plastic bottle inside.
“Six seventy-two.” She says.
“Wow, six seventy-two, that’s sure cheap.”
She looks at me for a moment again, but doesn’t say a thing. Pretty rude lady, really. I fork over two fives.
“Keep the change,” I say and walk away. That woman’s sure sad about something; I’m guessing she has money troubles. Maybe a sick relative, but who knows. Anyway, hopefully my tip will help.
I walk over to Dan, signal him and walk out. Dan catches up.
“You really got it?”
Good old Dan, where would he be without me. Didn’t believe it was possible, getting high thanks to the drug store, but here we are.
By the time we get back to my house, my legs are tired. My mom’s home so we go through the garage and straight up to my room. My room’s perfect for chilling, it’s got a couch and a pretty nice sound system, pretty much all you need to trip. Dan sits on the couch, and I go downstairs to get two cups.
My mom’s in the kitchen and she smiles when she sees me. “Hey honey, who’s over?”
“Dan.” I open the cupboard but there’s no big glasses.” Where are the big glasses mum?”
She comes over to the cupboard and looks inside, then opens the dishwasher. She hands me two of the big glasses.
“Did you two buy some soda on the way home?” She asks.
“Yep.” I turn and start walking upstairs.
“It’s your birthday soon.”
I stop halfway up the stairs and don’t turn around.
“Anything special you want?”
This makes me feel real ****ty.
“I’m too old for presents mom, maybe just take me out for dinner or something.” I say over my shoulder.
“You’re not too old honey, you’re only turning fifteen.”
“Well I don’t really need anything.”
“So you want no presents at all?” She says, and I can tell she’s amused.
“Nope.”
“Okay sweetie, have fun with your friend.”
Dan’s on my laptop when I come back into my room. I hand him a cup and then I get the pharmacy bag out from under my bed. I crack the top of the bottle, which is shaped like a pint of vodka and start pouring two equal glasses. The sizzurp is bright red, and thick as paint. It smells terrible but then so does booze. I tap the bottom of the container, trying to get the last few drops into my glass, while Dan smells the drink.
“Ugh, that smells nasty.”
“Who knows maybe it doesn’t taste too bad.”
I take the maximum capacity of the stuff in my mouth and swallow. It doesn’t taste too terrible, and it numbs my mouth and throat. I take another gulp and then look over at Dan. He’s chugging the liquid. That’s the awesome thing about Dan; he’s always down to get messed up. He plops his empty glass down on my desk. Damn, I need to catch up. I chug the rest of my liquid, it isn’t bad at all actually. Mind over matter, just like my dad always says.
“Now, we wait.” I say, butterflies fluttering around in my stomach. “DXM is a dissociative, like Ketamine, apparently it’s a lot like dreaming.” I love telling people about drugs. It’s about the only thing I know a lot about. I know more about drugs than anyone I know.
I set the mood for the perfect trip; psychedelic music. I make a playlist, starting with Jefferson Airplane’s White Rabbit and then sit on the couch beside Dan.
“I don’t feel anything.” Dan says.
“The onset of the effects usually occurs about an hour after dosing.”
“Oh, alright. How long’s it been?”
“Ten minutes.”
“Oh, alright.”
I close my eyes and listen closely at the lyrics; “Go ask Alice, I think she’ll know.” Drugs are the great American secret. Lots of famous people did tons of drugs. Hunter S. Thompson had a movie based on him, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas. Alice in Wonderland, like the biggest fairy tale ever was definitely written under the influence of drugs. Drugs are only looked down upon because they’re not alcohol. If a bunch of people bought drugs all the time instead of booze, the booze industry would go down the drain. Since alcohol is one of America’s biggest markets, it’s no wonder they hate drugs. Alcohol’s a drug, just like any of em. It’s probably one of the shoddiest, if you want to know the truth.
“Remember, what the doorknob says. Feed your head. Feed your head.” I have Goosebumps after the song, just awesome.
Dan starts tripping first. I look over and find him just staring at his hand, held only inches in front of his eyes.
“What’s up Dan?”
He doesn’t answer; his eyes are bugging out of his head. Then I start to feel something, just a tingling, like something isn’t quite right with reality. I find myself immersed in simply looking, it doesn’t matter what, it’s all incredibly interesting.
The stucco ceiling of my room is the crater of the moon, bumpy and full of mystery, an ancient intergalactic canyon. I raise my hand towards the ceiling, and it stretches like gumby. In a flash, my hand is running over the peaks, causing me to purr, as I enjoy the textile nature of the space mountain range.
Space is empty, just floating black and shining stars. Space is perfect, it’s a solitary place, and it’s so damn peaceful. Maybe everyone’s all wrong, and heaven isn’t a world of clouds and bashful angels. Maybe heaven is the solitary darkness that is space. It’d be pretty peaceful, floating through space for eternity. No one telling you what to do, what to believe. If they did, you’d just blast em.
My skin feels heavy, weighed down by gravity. Surprised it’s not sagging. I’m a hundred years old, an ancient soul confined to a fragile shell. That’s the problem with humans, we’re all something great inside but we’re confined in this ****ty vessel. I feel my brain seep out the top of my head, seeping through the follicles like play dough. Now that my brain’s escaped, it has infinite mass.
I expand, becoming infinite. I am the ceiling of my room, I am Dan, I am the wheel of my office chair. Everything has energy, and I am everything. I am all energy. Where my head used to be is the universe, stretching from towards the sky, the Earth is the belly. Legs stretch eternally downwards. Can’t move, but movement isn’t a necessary function. Everything exists proudly. Every flower’s petals are fingers, waving gleefully at chubby bumbles. My shell, sad and so pathetically human, is sitting idle.
A snail ventures from its shell and nothing eats it. The universe rewards it’s bravery with heavy rain. Rain that exists with stronger assurance than any man. Man’s intelligence causes it to question existence, to question meaning. Rain never questions it’s existence. It has soul, like most water, it is lively and robust. Rushing and running like a child, but with the assurance of an elder. No man will every experience that.
The moon feels distinctly different than the world. It’s dead, but tranquil. The moon is known not for it’s own right but for it’s differences from Earth. Earth is alive, buzzing and cyclical. Breathing and living, but never dying. The moon is the lack of life, a shallow shadow, living in the shadow of Earth.
Moon is fearful, for something approaches. A vessel of metal, full of man. It lands on the moon, and men packaged in intelligent material fill it’s surface. They spread out, and the moon screams in agony, as they erect McDonald’s and Starbucks and Chapters. They take the only thing the moon had, it’s peace, and the moon weeps, although it’s tears are silent.
My body is in it’s bathroom, emptying it’s stomach violently into the toilet bowl. Everything zooms out, and suddenly my bathroom slides into place. I am staring blankly at the wall above my toilet, hugging it for support. My stomach is bubbling, gurgling and I wretch again. I read that Dex can make you violently ill to you stomach. Man did I just trip though, I never been so high before. Unfortunately, not that my body is clearing itself of the drug, the high is fading.
I stay near the toilet for the next half hour, emptying my stomach periodically and feeling sorry for myself. My stomach feels like hell, it’s tight and painful and still bubbling like crazy. Once it settles down a bit, I re-enter my bedroom and find it empty. Good old Dan probably tripped balls, and then ran home. Typical.
I feel great, not physically but because of my experience. I actually hallucinated. First time ever. I feel embarrassed, I’d love to be more experienced; Acid, shrooms, ketamine, DMT, MDMA, Oxy Contin, Peyote. All I’ve ever done is huff gas, nutmeg (I know it’s a spice, if you eat a ton of it you actually get so high.), DXM and smoked weed. Oh well, it’s nothing to get down about. I’ve still got my whole life ahead of me.
After showering, brushing my teeth furiously and using Listerine, I walk into the kitchen. My mom’s using the toaster.
“Hey mom!” I say gleefully. The toaster pops.
“Hey sweetie.” She says. Then she transfers the almost-burnt toast to a near by plate, juggling them from hand to hand. She looks at me.
“Well, aren’t you chipper today.” She says affectionately. It’s true, I have a smile pasted on my face.
When I get to school it's boring as hell, the usual business but afterwards me and my buddy Dan walk into town. We head straight for the Drug Store, and I’m extremely excited. “What’s this drug again?” Dan says as we walk through the parking lot.
“DXM. OTC cough medicine. Makes you trip balls. It’s like acid but legal.”
“OTC?”
“Over the Counter.”
We enter the pharmacy and I walk straight for the pharmacist, but lose my nerve and veer off at the magazines. I pretend to look through the magazines, eyeing the pharmacist’s counter.
“What are you waiting for?” Dan asks.
“Someone’s buying something. I’m just gunna wait till they leave, cause otherwise it’s sketch.”
Dan starts to look real nervous. That’s the annoying thing about Dan, he’s got no self control. He’s always freaking out. Like this one time, when we smoked a ton of weed, it was righteous, but then I put on Pink Floyd’s The Wall. Five minutes later, after not saying anything, Dan asked me to turn it off. So I did. Another silent moment and then Dan stood up.
“Can you hear that?” I started laughing, cause I knew he was freaking out again.
“No, what?”
“People. Talking about us. You can’t hear them?”
I started laughing uncontrollably and Dan just left. Didn’t say a word, just walked right home. That’s Dan, always freaking out and acting crazy.
Anyway, since I’d mentioned it might be sketch, buying drugs from this lady who’s old enough to be my mom, Dan was freaking now. He was looking all over the place, and not saying anything.
“Maybe we should just go dude.”
“No way, we’ve gotta try DXM.”
Dan starts scratching his head and continues looking around like a smuggler checking into customs. I chuckle; Dan’s quite a unique guy, always overreacting.
I look back over at the counter, and no one’s there so I walk right up. If I hadn’t read all about it on the Internet the night before, I’d probably be super nervous, but I knew what I was doing was legal.
“Hello, could I get a dextromethorphan cough syrup please?” I ask politely. The woman looks at me for a moment, she’s got these really serious brown eyes, but then she goes into her treasure trove of chemicals and hands me a bag with a small plastic bottle inside.
“Six seventy-two.” She says.
“Wow, six seventy-two, that’s sure cheap.”
She looks at me for a moment again, but doesn’t say a thing. Pretty rude lady, really. I fork over two fives.
“Keep the change,” I say and walk away. That woman’s sure sad about something; I’m guessing she has money troubles. Maybe a sick relative, but who knows. Anyway, hopefully my tip will help.
I walk over to Dan, signal him and walk out. Dan catches up.
“You really got it?”
Good old Dan, where would he be without me. Didn’t believe it was possible, getting high thanks to the drug store, but here we are.
By the time we get back to my house, my legs are tired. My mom’s home so we go through the garage and straight up to my room. My room’s perfect for chilling, it’s got a couch and a pretty nice sound system, pretty much all you need to trip. Dan sits on the couch, and I go downstairs to get two cups.
My mom’s in the kitchen and she smiles when she sees me. “Hey honey, who’s over?”
“Dan.” I open the cupboard but there’s no big glasses.” Where are the big glasses mum?”
She comes over to the cupboard and looks inside, then opens the dishwasher. She hands me two of the big glasses.
“Did you two buy some soda on the way home?” She asks.
“Yep.” I turn and start walking upstairs.
“It’s your birthday soon.”
I stop halfway up the stairs and don’t turn around.
“Anything special you want?”
This makes me feel real ****ty.
“I’m too old for presents mom, maybe just take me out for dinner or something.” I say over my shoulder.
“You’re not too old honey, you’re only turning fifteen.”
“Well I don’t really need anything.”
“So you want no presents at all?” She says, and I can tell she’s amused.
“Nope.”
“Okay sweetie, have fun with your friend.”
Dan’s on my laptop when I come back into my room. I hand him a cup and then I get the pharmacy bag out from under my bed. I crack the top of the bottle, which is shaped like a pint of vodka and start pouring two equal glasses. The sizzurp is bright red, and thick as paint. It smells terrible but then so does booze. I tap the bottom of the container, trying to get the last few drops into my glass, while Dan smells the drink.
“Ugh, that smells nasty.”
“Who knows maybe it doesn’t taste too bad.”
I take the maximum capacity of the stuff in my mouth and swallow. It doesn’t taste too terrible, and it numbs my mouth and throat. I take another gulp and then look over at Dan. He’s chugging the liquid. That’s the awesome thing about Dan; he’s always down to get messed up. He plops his empty glass down on my desk. Damn, I need to catch up. I chug the rest of my liquid, it isn’t bad at all actually. Mind over matter, just like my dad always says.
“Now, we wait.” I say, butterflies fluttering around in my stomach. “DXM is a dissociative, like Ketamine, apparently it’s a lot like dreaming.” I love telling people about drugs. It’s about the only thing I know a lot about. I know more about drugs than anyone I know.
I set the mood for the perfect trip; psychedelic music. I make a playlist, starting with Jefferson Airplane’s White Rabbit and then sit on the couch beside Dan.
“I don’t feel anything.” Dan says.
“The onset of the effects usually occurs about an hour after dosing.”
“Oh, alright. How long’s it been?”
“Ten minutes.”
“Oh, alright.”
I close my eyes and listen closely at the lyrics; “Go ask Alice, I think she’ll know.” Drugs are the great American secret. Lots of famous people did tons of drugs. Hunter S. Thompson had a movie based on him, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas. Alice in Wonderland, like the biggest fairy tale ever was definitely written under the influence of drugs. Drugs are only looked down upon because they’re not alcohol. If a bunch of people bought drugs all the time instead of booze, the booze industry would go down the drain. Since alcohol is one of America’s biggest markets, it’s no wonder they hate drugs. Alcohol’s a drug, just like any of em. It’s probably one of the shoddiest, if you want to know the truth.
“Remember, what the doorknob says. Feed your head. Feed your head.” I have Goosebumps after the song, just awesome.
Dan starts tripping first. I look over and find him just staring at his hand, held only inches in front of his eyes.
“What’s up Dan?”
He doesn’t answer; his eyes are bugging out of his head. Then I start to feel something, just a tingling, like something isn’t quite right with reality. I find myself immersed in simply looking, it doesn’t matter what, it’s all incredibly interesting.
The stucco ceiling of my room is the crater of the moon, bumpy and full of mystery, an ancient intergalactic canyon. I raise my hand towards the ceiling, and it stretches like gumby. In a flash, my hand is running over the peaks, causing me to purr, as I enjoy the textile nature of the space mountain range.
Space is empty, just floating black and shining stars. Space is perfect, it’s a solitary place, and it’s so damn peaceful. Maybe everyone’s all wrong, and heaven isn’t a world of clouds and bashful angels. Maybe heaven is the solitary darkness that is space. It’d be pretty peaceful, floating through space for eternity. No one telling you what to do, what to believe. If they did, you’d just blast em.
My skin feels heavy, weighed down by gravity. Surprised it’s not sagging. I’m a hundred years old, an ancient soul confined to a fragile shell. That’s the problem with humans, we’re all something great inside but we’re confined in this ****ty vessel. I feel my brain seep out the top of my head, seeping through the follicles like play dough. Now that my brain’s escaped, it has infinite mass.
I expand, becoming infinite. I am the ceiling of my room, I am Dan, I am the wheel of my office chair. Everything has energy, and I am everything. I am all energy. Where my head used to be is the universe, stretching from towards the sky, the Earth is the belly. Legs stretch eternally downwards. Can’t move, but movement isn’t a necessary function. Everything exists proudly. Every flower’s petals are fingers, waving gleefully at chubby bumbles. My shell, sad and so pathetically human, is sitting idle.
A snail ventures from its shell and nothing eats it. The universe rewards it’s bravery with heavy rain. Rain that exists with stronger assurance than any man. Man’s intelligence causes it to question existence, to question meaning. Rain never questions it’s existence. It has soul, like most water, it is lively and robust. Rushing and running like a child, but with the assurance of an elder. No man will every experience that.
The moon feels distinctly different than the world. It’s dead, but tranquil. The moon is known not for it’s own right but for it’s differences from Earth. Earth is alive, buzzing and cyclical. Breathing and living, but never dying. The moon is the lack of life, a shallow shadow, living in the shadow of Earth.
Moon is fearful, for something approaches. A vessel of metal, full of man. It lands on the moon, and men packaged in intelligent material fill it’s surface. They spread out, and the moon screams in agony, as they erect McDonald’s and Starbucks and Chapters. They take the only thing the moon had, it’s peace, and the moon weeps, although it’s tears are silent.
My body is in it’s bathroom, emptying it’s stomach violently into the toilet bowl. Everything zooms out, and suddenly my bathroom slides into place. I am staring blankly at the wall above my toilet, hugging it for support. My stomach is bubbling, gurgling and I wretch again. I read that Dex can make you violently ill to you stomach. Man did I just trip though, I never been so high before. Unfortunately, not that my body is clearing itself of the drug, the high is fading.
I stay near the toilet for the next half hour, emptying my stomach periodically and feeling sorry for myself. My stomach feels like hell, it’s tight and painful and still bubbling like crazy. Once it settles down a bit, I re-enter my bedroom and find it empty. Good old Dan probably tripped balls, and then ran home. Typical.
I feel great, not physically but because of my experience. I actually hallucinated. First time ever. I feel embarrassed, I’d love to be more experienced; Acid, shrooms, ketamine, DMT, MDMA, Oxy Contin, Peyote. All I’ve ever done is huff gas, nutmeg (I know it’s a spice, if you eat a ton of it you actually get so high.), DXM and smoked weed. Oh well, it’s nothing to get down about. I’ve still got my whole life ahead of me.