Everything around me is wavy, I'm standing in some central zone for chaos, and I'm the one causing it. Sleek soft black, amazing piece of aesthetic black metal. And I'm pointing it at someone Heroine junkie. Confused i draw back, the lady to the left starts talking, but just in a strange form, too slow to humanly understand.. P- - u - - t - - the G- u -n D-o-w-n. Gun?! I'm in total panic, fear, realization i am holding a deadly weapon, doesnt matter now. Just pull the trigger. I wake up in a bed of sweat, am i dead, am i shot? Wounded, no just cold sweet sweat. I get up to inspect my new surroundings, Feels like I'm waking up in a different god damn hotel everymoring, But at the same time vaguely familiar. Maybe its the drugs? No, its this time period, the one were when you wake up in a hotel you cant figure out how you got there. Not like it matters, your used to hotels. Same service, same room, same bathroom, same miniature soap. Living off of Americas money. a middle class drug fiend stealing taxpayers soap. And be damned if you had enough money, your going to end up in a fucking sell on of these nights. I look over to the side table and see my wallet. I grab it to maybe find some clue to these terrible nightmares. Some explanation of the now soaked sheets. There's a whole lot of green at least $1200 in hundreds. Maybe i sold the LSD, but were? And that would still not explain how i ended up with a wallet full of green bliss. i pull out my silver cigarette holder and look for my LSD. 4 hits left, bastards. Either i cruelly attempted some plan to straighten this mess out. Or i took it all in a panic and ended up here. I pull out a joint and look for my lighter. Shit, no lighter. I find a match book in my left pocket. Crazy 8's bar and grill. I have no idea were it came from, and no memory of any bar and grill. I open it up to find a message scribbled that says SELL COKE. Fuck, not the coke! in a full out panic i search the room for my cocaine. No were. Fuck, i must have sold the coke. May have been a trip here but its going be a trip and a half back. specially with a monkey on my back that wants to ride the 44 on a head full of white powder. Well that explains the cash. I get up and order breakfast turn on the news and lay in bed for 10 minutes while i wait for it to arrive. i hear a knock on the door and grab my breakfast. the 11 o'clock news is on, and my runny egg's are like heaven compared to what i must have had 6 hours ago in that dingy bar on the wrong side of town. Without the cocaine i only have one other option and its to take the rest of the LSD and try to figure out what happened, and whats next. My pants are far to drenched in sweat for an afternoon drive. i hang them in the shower to dry and walk out of my room with 4 hits of LSD and a joint in my mouth. I head to the beach which is across from the hotel room. My mind wants cocaine and i have all the money to buy it. The sun hits my back as i start my stoned walk. No one seems to be concerned about the crazy man in boxers with 1200 in cash, 4 hits of acid on his tongue and holding a joint. Hell, I'm not concerned. Why should they be?