As I drive, I've been thinking about my purpose in life. Really I've just been reacting to my environment and asking How. How does this work? How did I get here? How could I fuck up what I had?
What I need is a little time to ask What. What is the point of all this? What do I want out of this new life? What's for dinner?
Full disclosure, I bought a little weed and magic mushrooms from a dude at the last truck stop. I'm feeling very chill and introspective. How long has it been since I had a good high? Fuck! There I go asking How again! I need to go fishing.
I search in the atlas and a nearby place called Bottomless Lakes State Park sounds promising. I head that direction. We arrive that afternoon and I ask the ranger about good fishing locations. He recommends a lake called Devil's Ink Well. I purchase a week at a campsite next to it. After stocking up on some campfire foods and fishing gear at the local general store, Clementine and I head in.
The park is like an oasis compared to the New Mexico you see on the road. It's still rocky but there is this awesome prehistoric vibe about it. It's so fucking beautiful man. Ok full disclosure for real this time. I TRIED to buy some light recreational drugs from a guy at the truck stop. He saw my thick roll of hundreds when I went to pay and got greedy. He pulled a knife on me so I bonked him on the head and took a truly prodigious amount of fun drugs from his car.
I am becoming one with the universe and can't figure out my tent. I eat some unheated s'mores and sleep curled up hugging Clementine's tire. It is the best sleep I've had since I got here. I wake up feeling refreshed and ready to relax.
I get my camp set up and fish up some fat carp for tonight's dinner. I clean and season them, then leave them to chill in the ice chest. I eat an absolutely bonkers amount of mushrooms and chase it with a dozen Miller beers. Sitting next to the lake, I think about my lifes.
I can't change what already happened. My life man, I can't even remember everything. It feels like there were some really great parts. I just can't get those back. I'm crying and eating the occasional mushroom s'more when I think I need it. Those people and that dog would want me to be happy. Fuck! I'm letting them down.
I drop about half a kilo of weed in the fire and huff the smoke for a while. I feel like swimming. I kick my clothes off and swim out into the lake. Even with Hyper-Perception I can't see the bottom out here, but floating on my back I can feel the little currents and noises of all the things living down there. The sun is still up but I can see the stars.
I want to do something different. I don't want the same life. I could be a soldier or detective here and be ok. I'd be great at it. I could live in a small town and fix cars. Maybe settle down again. I'm sinking down into the water.
I hover there about ten feet underwater for a long time. I'm watching the sun edge closer to the mountains. I've been falling back into my detective role. Dealing with dirty deeds. It's just the nature of the game. Every good cop is a criminal sometimes. People have known to "set a thief to catch a thief" since humans started writing things down. I need to work on myself.
Nobody is perfect. I close my eyes. If I'm here for my sins, fuck the devil. If god sent me then fuck him too. I want to focus on the music. It makes me feel different than I ever have. It's something I can share with people. Like a hidden treasure they didn't even know existed. I've been avoiding it. Stealing to make my money when I could do it honestly with music. I need to be braver. I need to get weird with it and have some fun. Don't waste it Sammy.
I open my eyes and it's nighttime. I swim to the surface and take a big breath of air. All the psychedelics have left my system. I think. I feel subtly changed. My Spirit has a more flexible feel to it than before and the damage is slightly less. It can be healed without the System. I have options to get better, and that weirdly makes me feel ok about spending those System points.
I can see my campsite from here. There are people around my fire. Eating my food, drinking my beer, and passing around my gallon ziplock bag of magic mushrooms. Clementine seems fine, but someone is asleep in my tent. A little transistor radio is playing cheerful rock music. Quite a little party.
"Ch Ch Ch. Ah Ah Ah. Ch Ch Ch. Ah Ah Ah. From the depths of Crystal Lake…a fresh horror rises to prey on sinful campers. This summer, fear has a new face." I observe them for a while. Two men and two women all in their 20s. Plus whoever is in the tent.
I can see a van about fifty yards down the shore line. I'm guessing they came to camp, went to check out the neighbors, and couldn't resist the drugs.
I'm not even mad. Doing stupid stuff when you're young is standard. I'm still going to fuck with them though. I take my t-shirt from my Space and tie it into a ninja mask. Quietly moving onto shore, I don't have long to wait before one of the guys wanders away from camp to take a leak.
In the darkness I give him a gentle bonk on the back of his head and carry him to his van. After one more bonk to grow on and I put him in the back under a blanket. Oh, he peed his pants. My bad.
Making my way back to camp, I use Voice Mastery to copy Piss Boy's voice in the darkness. "Guys? Guys! Do you hear that? Who are you?! What are you doing?! Oh god no! AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH! FUCK! Stacy he has a knife! He's goin…", I abruptly cut off my screaming.
It's dead quiet. The campers have knocked over the radio and are huddled together in the firelight. Two of them are hugging and mumbling in incoherent fear. The scrappy blonde Stacy grabs my lawn chair and holds it threateningly at the darkness. "Philip? Baby, are you there? Baby, answer me!"
I'm crouched behind a rock and start tossing a few pebbles around. One in the lake. One on the gravel road behind them. They jerk around to follow the sounds. "Ch Ch Ch. Ah Ah Ah." I keep it quiet and throw my voice to make it sound like it came from everywhere "Ch Ch Ch. Ah Ah Ah." Wow, lots of tears. I better send them on their way.
I lower my voice to a terrifying, demonic bass rumble and step into the firelight with only my mask on. "Philip isn't coming back and you're next!" I raise my hunting knife in the air and lunge at the campers.
It's an every man for themself scramble as they head for the van. Even with all the stumbling and falling, one of the girls manages to hang on to my bag of mushrooms. Impressive! Soon enough, the van starts up and fishtails along the gravel road out of the campground.
I am chuckling to myself and straightening my campsite when I remember the tent. I pull the flap aside and sleeping inside is a young woman with headphones on and folk music playing on the cassette player she is hugging.
"Damn it."