'Til Death Do Us Part (24 page)

“
Oh
,
my babies!
”
John wailed.

“
What
’
s the matter?
”
I asked
,
looking around wildly.

John sat down heavily by a row of huge potted plants. Correction, huge
Pot
plants. I had only seen plants this size on the news during drug busts.

“
They
’
re dying,
”
he said sadly
as he caressed some of the sticky buds.

“
John the Tripper, I need to wrap my head around this can you start from the beginning?
”
I asked.

John looked up and over at me, tears threatening to fall from his eyes.
“
Well
,
scientists
say that
the u
niverse was once in an extremely hot and dense state which expanded rapidly
...
”

“
No
,
man
,
not that far back.
”

“
Mesozoic then?
”
h
e asked clearly confused with my request.

“
This cavern
, John the T
ripper, let
’
s start with this cavern,
”
I clarified, or so I had thought.

“
Cave
formation
begins when rainwater absorbs carbon dioxide as it falls through
—
”

“
Oh fuck
,
man, you
’
re hurting my head.
”

“
Here smoke some of this,
”
John said
,
extending his
arm
, a fairly good sized joint in the palm of his hand.
“
This will help.
”

“
Like I need more drugs.
”
I said sarcastically rubbing my temples. 

“
Exactly,
”
John said as he looked in his hand and seemed surprised at what he found.
“
Did you give me this?
”
h
e asked. He sparked it up before I could respond, even if I wanted to.

I
’
ll admit the sweet smell of the smoke was enticing, but I needed to be closer to reality as opposed to the opposite.

“
Man, this is some good shit,
”
John said as he took a sharp inhalation.
“
Where
’
d you get it?
”
h
e asked as he pulled the joint away and was looking at the burning end.
“
Colombia maybe?
”

“
I don
’
t really remember,
”
I told him;
that seemed easier than trying to reason with him.

“
You got anymore?
”
h
e asked
,
taking another toke.

I shook my head negative
ly
as I began to explore our surroundings. Besides the landing hay and the potted pot plants, there were some tailgating fold-out chairs, a small collapsing table
, a bunch of candles and some UV
lighting that seemed to run on a cord that went back up the hole we had previously exited from.

At the far end of the cavern was another hole a little bigger than the other, this one looked like you could crawl on hands and knees, but I was in no rush, the mere thought of it got a quickening in my pulse.

“
Did you make this place?
”
I asked John, hoping he would be on a cohesive thought upswing.

“
It was here,
”
h
e said with abbreviation as he took another hit.

“
The tunnel from the cabin
was
here also?
”

“
No, I did that. I was pretty sure an alien spacecraft had crash landed here in the
‘
40s
.
So
I rented a
ground penetrating radar set-up.
When
it bounced this hole back up
,
I had to see what it was. Figured the ship would be down here to
o
, it wasn
’
t.
”

“
The
previous
cabin motel owners—
or
Stephanie
for that matter—
didn
’
t care that you dug a hole in the middle of that room?
”
I asked
,
pointing back up.

“
At first I snuck the dirt out
in
my pockets in the middle of the night.
”

“
Like
The Great Escape
?
”
I asked
,
remembering a World War
Two movie my dad and I
used to enjoy watching.

“
Well I wasn
’
t re
ally trying to escape, but sure,
”
h
e replied
,
looking
at me like I was the crazy one;
and maybe in his skewed reality
,
that was the truth.
“
Then
,
when I got to the cavern, I decided I liked it a lot and I bought the motel
…
or maybe
Stephanie
did
.
”

“
This is all yours?
”

He was smiling again, whether from the weed or being the proud owner I wasn
’
t sure.

“
You
’
re fucking loaded aren
’
t you?
”
I asked.
“
Like one of those
ü
ber-rich trust fund babies aren
’
t you!
”
I said
,
pointing and laughing at him.

“
I had a friend stole two pounds of dope from me, when he sold it
,
he put all the money into
eBay
stocks. He felt so guilty he gave me
thirty
million.
”

“
Dollars?
That
’
s unreal
.
”

“
What?
”

“
Wow
,
you
’
d never know you were worth that much.
”

“
I
’
m not anymore.
”

I figured he had smoked, snorted or swallowed the vast majority of his windfall.

“
Stephanie
took the profits and rolled it into Google. I think at one time she said
two hundred and fifty
million.
”

“
Holy shit
,
John!
”
I nearly fell on my ass just thinking about the staggering amount.
“
Why are you still living in that little house in backwoods North Carolina?
”

“
Where would I go?
”
h
e asked in all seriousness.

“
Anywhere I suppose.
”

“
Why? It was home.
”

“
Yeah
,
John the Tripper
,
I guess you
’
re right. Home is home, that
’
s pretty deep.
”

“
Not really, we
’
re only about twenty feet down.
”

“
I meant the...forget it. Shit
two hundred and fifty
million, that
’
s pretty impressive.
”

“
It
’
s only money.
”

“
That
’
s
what people who have a lot say.
For
those that are or were struggling
,
it takes on a different meaning.
”

“
Want some?
”

“
I don
’
t think it
’
s worth much anymore.
”

“
Right, the funky people. They
’
ve been kinda of fouling everything up.
”

“
Is this place safe?
”

“
It
’
s deep enough that we don
’
t need the tin foil hats.
The
funkies can
’
t get here
,
and the government already removed the spaceship
,
so they ain
’
t coming back. So yeah…
safe as any place can be.
”

“
I need to come down
, John.
All
I
’
m seeing is tracers
,
and the reverberation in here is throwing me off.
“

“
Then you
’
re gonna love this,
”
h
e said as he snapped some glow sticks.

He started to twirl his arms. The kaleidoscope of colors was mesmerizing. I don
’
t know how long I watched
,
but the chemical reaction was beginning to peter out when I finally pulled my gaze away.

“
Come on sit down,
”
John told me. I had not even known he sat;
the colors were still swirling vividly in front of me.
“
Smoke this.
”
He
handed
me a pipe that looked suspiciously like a peace pipe.

I took a long drag, the aromatic smoke filling my lungs, the smell of vanilla wafting around our enclosure.
“
What is this?
”
I asked
,
looking at the pipe, realizing that I should probably have asked before taking a hit. With John all bets were off.

“
It
’
s a personal blend
.
”

“
Your words are not as comforting as I would hope
,
John.
”

“
North Carolina tobacco, with
a smattering of Turkish hashish,
”
h
e told me as he handed the pipe back.

The sweet-
spiced tobacco melded nicely with the tang
y
tickle of the hash. The buzz was pleasant and rounded the edges of the ha
rsh trip. I was feeling better—not normal, not by a long shot—
but at least I didn
’
t feel like I was going to come out of my skin. Although I figured I had already done that once today and that should be enough.

We sat there fo
r
an
indeterminable amount of time.
I found great comfort in John, for a man so out of step with the
‘
real
’
world, he was the lord of this domain. I smoked until I couldn
’
t lift my arms any more. We talked some, for the life of me I can
’
t remember anything except the profoundness of it. And then John told me to go to sleep.