WHEN I PAINT MY MASTER’S PIECE /or/ JOE COWBOY AND THE DENTIST KOOL AID ACID TEST Part2

capeann
 I think I’m ready to continue with the adventure, so let’s have at it.
Now everything up to this point in my telling of the events that year was just the prelim’s. I’m saying that, you needed to get a grasp on the who, and what, and where, and when, of the time to get the full impact. After our little bus trip adventure the real trip took place. I am talking about a ride on the real magic bus, if you get my drift.
Some time after that kind bus driver taught us some manners, Joe approached me at the corner where the stoners hung. It was in that ten minutes before first period that we would hang and have a quick smoke. So no small talk Joe says that his brother and his friends just made a fresh batch of acid which is supposed to be pretty good. This is when I realized that his older brother was in some sorta biker club. Club, gang, call it what you want, I just figured they sounded like a nice group of guys who liked to help out the stoners by producing quality American made products that we needed. At this point Joe gives me so kinda quick run through on the facts of the product. Blotter Acid, Double Barrel, Free for just giving your opinion of its use later. Boom! I’m in, you know, if it’s free it’s for me was my motto. So it’s acid all around, really about four of us are given hits. What I later learned was that two people pocked theirs for consumption later, and the other guy just took about a third of his since it was only like eight AM.
 Now even at my age now I would not claim to be some sort of expert on acid. And back then at fifteen I sure I was not as will become clear. But what I did learn is that blotter acid is a liquid that is a drop on a tiny piece of blotter paper that you consume. Double Barrel blotter is a drop on both sides of the paper. This apparently can make quite a difference in strength. Who knew? Not me at the time and down the hatch my whole hit went immediately. Just to clarify again, this is a true story, and it was like eight am. Why that is significant is that at eight am on a school morning, I have only likely consumed a half cup of coffee, two cigarettes, and part of a joint.
 At that point I finished my smoke, and headed off to first period which was Math. Business Math as it was. After my grade of like 32 in Algebra at Cardinal Spellman H.S., a new record that stands to this day (for someone who actually attended class) mind you, Business Math was a snap and I had like a ninety-five going into the final week of classes.
Things are going alright during class. I am starting to get that kinda jittery feeling you get when the acids about to kick in which on most nights, which was when I had taken acid before, would have come on about after an hour and half after ingestion. So thirty minutes in its coming on. I can understand with the little I had eaten this morning, just means it will end sooner. Right? Not this time.
 By the time I hit Homeroom my mind is racing and my jaw is tightening up and things are starting to look just a bit weird. Joe who was in my Homeroom looks over gives me the thumbs up as if looking for a review. I flipped him some finger up at that point, really not sure if was a thumbs up, when I noticed the Teacher looking at me in a strange manner. Later reports said that she had been looking right at me and calling my name and I was just smirking which turned into a laugh and then all out hysterical laughter, at which point I rose from my desk, waved my hands as if not now, I can;t talk and bolted out the back door leaving my books with the hippie girl who filled out the absent sheet for the teacher. Which turned out good late,r as we wound up going to the Foreigner concert together a few weeks later.
 From this point on things are really sketchy until about two that afternoon when a guy named Loomis found me sitting on a park bench staring at the ground and smiling. As he tells the story he hung with me for about ten minutes during which time I told him all the wonders of the concrete dancing and the great moves it had etc. At which point he told me what time it was and how he would walk me to my building from there to make sure I made it without stopping again. Cool. Or should have been, but this was some sorta super acid and the fun was just starting.
 Loomis drops me at my building and says see ya, laughing as he left I’m thinking. And in I go up the elevator to our apartment on the sixth floor. Well up, and down, and up and down, I don’t have a clue how many times just that the last time my mother was at the elevator door saying “What are you doing?” OK I can handle this, not! I laughed which was not the right answer, and in to the apartment I went, left ear first. When Mom let go of my ear and stopped yelling the first thing she said was, “ok and how was school today”? I should have known by now but this was double barrel so i say “great ma I think I’m gonna get a 95 in math”. And Mom say’s, and this is the first and only time I ever heard my mother talk like this, “BULL”. “You haven’t been to school in nine months, I just got off the phone with your Principal”. Now you can imagine this situation when you were straight, but on the worst acid ever known to mankind, this trip is starting to be a bummer. And it got worse with mention of the forged report cards made in my spare time at my Dad’s print shop when no one was looking, and various other notes of unmentionable irregularities too numerous to mention here and which that day took about two hours for my Mother to get through while I stood there in shock trying to convince myself it was an hallucination.
 Well, I couldn’t convince myself because this was an all too true story. And when all the talking was just about over and my legs were killing me from standing at attention for several hours with my ear being pulled on at all pertinent points. I mean just as I am thinking it’s over, I here the words that everyone from now to eternity, who happens to be on double barrel blotter acid, will fear. She stops for a second, looks toward the clock and says, “We will take this up later, for now it is just about five o’clock and you need to get to your dentist appointment”. You do remember that you have to get that cavity taken care of today?” Well, at that point what could I do? I had to just say “yes mother” and go.
 For the less initiated in tripping on acid, the last thing you ever want to have to go do, and I’m speaking even to the most experienced acid takers in the world, I mean real Hippies, the last thing that you should ever do is let the dentist give you that numbing stuff. You know where your whole face is numb for hours, and then start drilling into your teeth. About sixteen hours after leaving the dentist I started coming down from the acid, and the next week, when I saw Joe Cowboy, I said “tell your brother it is perfect just like that”. Damn if I’m gonna be the only one has to go to the dentist on that stuff. Now older and wiser I know the errors of my ways but then, that was one long strange trip, man. And like I told ya, true story! Really.
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