paranoid on pot

           Wow! I feel great. Just got a new car, new home, new lawn mower, I handcuffed my new wife, life is good. She's going to give me five babies, three boys and two girls. It's gonna be great. She even know Spanish. I wonder if she knows English. Oh, well. Gonna get a home house for her. A home house is like a dog house, but for wives. Gotta make sure it's close enough to the bathroom and shower. Gonna clean her once a month. Other supplies like food, clean water, take her to the doctor, meds, etc. Hold up the pharmacist for Viagra. I want kids, so, that's how it's gonna be. Also, going to go to the pound to get the mutts, leaving my wife here. Hmm. No car. That's okay. I'll just kick my neighbor's ass and use theirs. Hope it has a full tank or I'll have to get approval for prepay, fill-up, and run off. Free gas. Might get some alcohol, cigarettes, coffee, and an instant meal when I'm in there, too. Easier than sticking up a supermarket or restaurant. Though I have been in the mood for a cheeseburger lately. 

           Get to the pound where there are dogs, cats, gerbals, and lots of other things. Might eat squirrel for dinner tonight unless I can stick up another place. I snag three dogs and a mini-horse. Wonder if I can potty train a mini horse. I go to the local pet store and get gourmet pet food. Life's so much easier since I got guns and ammo. The dogs'll protect me from the cops. So will the hand grenades I snagged from the Army Surplus store. I get back home and attach the dogs to the dog houses with chains and a round metal thing in the ground. I look at the sad dog eyes and the sad horse eyes. They look the same as my wife's eyes. They all just want to know what the fuck is going on. I put out their dog bowls with fresh dog food and water. Gotta snag flea pills later. Should've picked them up with the Viagra. 

           I keep the keys to the car. It's mine now. The neighbor comes over screaming, so I fire a few warning shots and she goes back. I light a cigarette and go in the house. I eat the shit from the gas station and give my wife a ham and cheese sandwish, which she unwraps and eats. I snag her shirt while she's focused on coffee and the sandwich. She gives me the same blank look, then punches me in the mouth. Bitch. Nothing happens. This is why I chose a weak, young wife. Probably hurt her first more than it hurt my mouth. Not it the mood now, anyway. I'll try later. I throw her shirt on the floor and she picks it up and puts it back on. It's a red shirt with a brown stain over the stomach. I got it for her at a thrift shop. 

           I go to the safe, put in the combo, and there it is. Beautiful. 5 kilos of pot, 2 kilos of crack, some LSD, and other great stuff. Had to kill a couple of drug dealers to get it, but it was worth it. Then, I feel in my pocket and it isn't there. I check my left pocket, and the two rear pockets. Fuck. Where the hell is it? Gotta rob the local liquor store this time. I take the stolen car to the liquor store and I find it. A Brisco lighter. As I head out, the idiot at the front desk says, “Wait a minute. You gotta pay for that” so I crash a vodka on the floor and ignite it. The guy runs the hell outta there and I pick up a few Moonshines and Everclears. Maybe these'll get my wife in the mood. Wonder what the Spanish word for drink is. Look behind the counter and pick up some free porn. Yea. Life is good. Porn, wife, kids, house, car, lawn. All is well.

           I get back home open the safe, light up the pot, and feel hungry. I show down on the Everclear, Moonshine, and chips. Had some from last night. Then I offer my wife the drinks. She smells it and shakes her head, so I say, “Your loss, Bitch” and smoke more weed. Now, there's a point in smoking weed where you feel, happy and light-headed, but if you keep smoking, you become paranoid. 

           I look at the dogs. Damn mutts.  One of them is curled in a ball on the grass, snoring, the second one is looking for squirrels, the third one I still eating, the fourth one is pissing in the yard (that's why I kept them all outside), but the fifth one is looking at me with fighting eyes. You know when a dog is staring at you, it's challenging you. I'm ready for a challenge. Hell, I'll even give this son-of-a-bitch a shot and leave my guns in the kitchen. Gotta make sure my wife can't get to them though. 

           Then, I go out and look at the son-of-a bitch. “You want a piece of this?” I ask . . . Oh, yeah. I never checked which ones were boys and which ones were girls. I hope my wife's a girl. Didn't check that either. She looks like she’s a girl. Should've looked her in the mouth. “Never look a stolen wife in the mouth” is bullshit.  

           Then, the world starts to spin. Usual or unusual. Could be a contra of combining drugs. I’m not a chemist. Damn it. World’s spinning. Feels like I’m going to sleep. Then, blackness.  

*

           Wake up, men and women in white coats over me with knives and needles. Never a good thing. Look around and there are men in blue coats and blue pants. Damn it. Goddamn it. Look around and the sons-of-bitches are still there, but what about inside? Maybe they know it’s not my house, my car, my yard, my lawnmower. I don’t feel high anymore and it feels like there’s a needle in my ass. Weird. Maybe the cops are here to repossess my lawn. Wonder if I remembered to close the safe.  Fuck. Maybe they just got me outside and don’t know about inside. They need a warrant to search inside right? Unless. Maybe I’m still paranoid on pot. It’s a hallucinogenic. Maybe the cops are a hallucination. Maybe I’m having DT. DTs see things that aren’t there. Is my wife there? Are the drugs there? The dogs are here. Sic. Sic’em. Sic the blue coats.

           “Do you know what your name is?”

           Think of a fake name. Maybe they have my fingerprints. Maybe the government has files on me and my wife. Damn it. I speak, “Aaammmaa,” but it doesn’t sound right. I know what I’m trying to say. Against medical advice. “AAmmmaaa” They white coats get the stretcher out. Son-of-a-bitch I hope I locked the safe. See, that was a good purchase, though. She’ll speak to the cops in Spanish and they won’t know what the fuck she’s saying. Sometimes I’m smart.