Hallucinatory Peregrination

1


         







It is 12:02 am on a Friday night and Harry, Terry, and myself, I’m Larry, are pulling out of the Omni Hotel parking garage in Terry’s 1995 teal Ford Avalon XLS after having a very pricey dinner with Harry’s college friend (which came out to $200 total, we split it three ways) and then taking two or three hits of acid. Terry has short dirty blond hair with blue eyes and has an athletic build.  Harry also has blue eyes like Terry but unlike Terry he has a slightly huskier build and longer brown hair.  I have brown hair like Harry, but mine is short like Terry’s and I have glasses over my blue eyes.  I guess you would say that I have an athletic build too; I am neither thin nor fat.

When we are about half a mile down the highway, traffic comes to a sharp stand still.  Apparently a couple cars t-boned each other, two occupants died and the cops are trying to direct traffic on the road.
“What are we trying to do guys?” Terry asks while we are waiting.
“I have no idea,” Harry replies.
“Okay.” Terry says, exasperatedly enunciating the word.  “What do you think, Larry?”
From the backseat I giggle. “Dude, I am so high I have no idea where I am.  Let’s just find a place to get some grub to nosh on.”
Harry speaks up. “7-11?”
“Fine by me,” Terry announces.
I start to say something, but then find myself staring dumbly out the window at one of the dead occupants from the car; his neck is severed along with blood gushing from a gash on his forehead.  He is answering questions from the police officer.  After 10 or 15 minutes traffic starts back up and we continue on our way.

From each passing streetlight, I can see my reflection in the glass.  Outside cars roll quietly by, there occupants staring ahead with no expression on their faces.  I lean over towards the other side and peer out the window.  Passing before my eyes are supermarkets, banks, apartment buildings, movie theaters, convenience stores, and other stores about to shut out their lives for the night.  Each bright light or neon sign temporarily blinds me for a second.  I lean back and shoulder my body back into the seat. My eyes catch the time on the dashboard: 12:30 am.  I close my eyes shut and wait.

           I am alone in the back seat, while Harry is with Terry in the front.  I open my eyes and Harry is asking me something.  I can’t hear him, my mind is lost.  As I try to come back, I look out the window. The streetlamps and the other building’s lights have merged and blurred together.  I look down at my hands and they are cold and clammy.  I cover my face with them and close my eyes again.  Sweat droplets starting streaming down my face and I open my eyes and have to squint because a white blinding light has encased the interior of the car.  I can’t even see outside and Terry and Harry’s heads have become but silhouettes against the white backdrop.  I can see Harry’s head turn to me and I can barely make out what he is saying.

         I shake my head back and forth a few times and the sensation goes away.  The inside has gone back to normal and I can see that the outside lights have returned to their original state as well. Finally I can see Harry and he is looking at me, his blue eyes studying me tensely.  He opens his lips again.
         “Chris, I am asking if you want to go into 7-11.” He verbalized.
         Terry pulls into the parking lot and cranes his head back to me an anxious look on his face.  He wants me to say something, to return to reality.  I finally break the mold of the upsetting state I was in. I smile and pat him on the back.  Then I look back over at Harry.
         “Uh, yea. I could sure go for some water.” I said.
         Harry and Terry exchange a glance and I notice this.  I proceed to laugh again.
         “Guys! I am alright! Let’s go inside this joint!”
         Tony opens his door and Harry and I follow in quick succession.

         We make the quick traipse towards the double doors of the 7-11 and I hold the door open for Terry and Harry and am about to close the door when I notice that the door handlebar is covered in a black substance.  I frantically let go and look at my hand.  My entire palm is covered in black soot. I open the door and step in. It is pitch black inside the building and constant strobe lights are flashing all over the place, so that makes it a little easier to see.  I walk over to the front clerk, who is a bull, and ask him where the can is.  In perfect English, he informs it’s in the back and raises a hoofed arm in the direction.  When he sees me look back at him with a bewildered look on my face, he swipes a crumb from the side of his mouth with a large green tongue and cocks his head, wearing an expression like that of an addlepate.

         The halogen lights in the bathroom have been replaced with red-heat heat lamps that engulf the room in unflinching red light.  The skin on my neck is searing and I run my hand over it and that seems to stop the pain.  I squeeze out the last of that hot dog from earlier that night and flush the toilet.  That has black soot all over it, too. I stand up and button my pants and now they have that soot shit all over them now.  I need to clean these off so when I wash my hands I work hard to lather the running blood from the faucet up with lots of soap.  With a bloody, soapy, sooty hand, I get out a bunch of paper towels and wipe off my hands.  I throw the blood drenched towels in the trash and open the door, this one has no soot on it, thank god.

Terry meets me at the bathroom door, his pupils burning fire and green slime oozing from his mouth.
“Hey, can you guys wait for me? I gotta take a dump.” He says, green substance dripping from his green teeth.
“Sure, we will”
“Ok, thanks dude.”
I look over at Harry, who looks back at me and waves.  He is behind an invisible man.  I walk over to where the drinks are and open the door to get a Pepsi.  I have to wave away the snowflakes that fall out from inside the freezer.  After chipping away a lot of thickly packed snow and ice, I finally remove a Pepsi.  I make my way over to the chip aisle where a bag of Doritos asks me to buy him and I have to say no.  A bag of Lays Original Potato Chips tells me that I have the munchies and that Lays would awesome right now.  I have to refuse him and I keep walking by.  A Charleston Chew meows at me, so I have to buy it.  I pick up a non speaking bag of Cool Ranch Doritos and get stopped by the invisible man who seems to know me.

“How are ya doing today, Larry?” He inquires.
“I’m sorry” I admit.  “Where do I know you from?”
“I work with your dad on the base.  I am Mr. Arnold.”
I still don’t recognize him.  I want to ask him if he is going to the Office Picnic next week and if the rest of his family is invisible.  I even almost say this.  My gaze follows a 6’3’’ tall snickers bar behind Mr. Arnold as it walks to the counter, listening to an Ipod.
“Larry? Are you alright?”
I look back at Mr. Arnold.  He has a Slurpee in his hand and whenever he drinks I can see the green liquid run down his transparent throat.
“Uh, yea.  I mean, yes I’m am alright.  I just need to get with my friends over there.”
I wave over to wear they are.  The Bull clerk is re-stocking the barking hot dogs.  Harry, who is wearing only underwear, calls over to me, in Italian, to get a move on.  I smile back at Mr. Arnold and start over towards the counter.
“So, I’ll tell your dad I saw you here?”
“Please do so.  That would be nice.”
“Alright, I will.”
“And I’ll tell him I saw you here.  Goodnight, Mr. Arnold.” I say to him as I make my exit.
“Ok, goodnight!” He calls after me.
I thought to myself about why Mr. Arnold would be in 7-11 this late if he has a (possibly invisible) wife and kids.  I brush away the feeling and just shrug my shoulders.

Before I come to the counter, my hallucinatory after-shocks completely wear off and I feel in a daze for a few moments.  I shake my head a couple times and close my eyes tightly.  I swallow a couple times, and then open my eyes again.  Everything in the 7-11 has changed. It’s…normal. The Doritos and potato chips aren’t talking.  The Charleston Chews and Milky Ways aren’t meowing anymore.  The sodas aren’t frozen and Mr. Arnold is visible again.  He pushes back his thinning hair back with his hand and catches me looking at him. He smiles pleasantly and waves. He walks out the door and I hear the robotic ding as it closes behind him.

I look down at my Timex Digital watch and it reads 12:45 am.  I have only been in here ten minutes, but it feels like an eternity. I walk over to the counter and hand the clerk my food items.  By the way, he isn’t a bull anymore. I pay for my stuff, say thanks and then leave.
“The acid has worn off. I can’t feel it anymore.” I inform the both of them.
“Alright, but I don’t think we should have another hit for at least a couple hours.” Harry tells me.
“Yea, you are right, too much at one time can hurt you.  So where to now, chiefs?”
“I’m not sure.  That’s up to Terry. Terry?”
We both look at Terry, who doesn’t return our gaze.
“We are going to Smith’s place,” He sternly instructs us.
Both of us just nod our heads because we have no idea what that means.

The three of us get in the car and strap ourselves in.  It takes a few tries to start up the car but Terry finally gets it.  We pull out of 7-11 and have to wait for several passing cars.  The Avalon pulls on to Oyster Point and moves into the dark sackcloth blackness of the night.