Just Down the Road

Soft tendrils of smoke billowed upward, shifting in and out of view as the light filtered around them. I gazed in a fervour, growing increasingly interested as the smoke washed over me. My eyes strained to find meaning in the ever shifting curls, a word or name, and failed. Growing disinterested in the graveyard for metal band names floating above me, my tunnel vision waned and I realized that Jeff was talking to me. 

Jeff wore a petulant demeanor, hunched like an anchor was tied around his neck, juxtaposing the otherwise bright and excitable drawl of his voice. My attentioned threatened to burrow down the rabbit hole of a thought self titled Alien simulation. With effort I wrenched it back and engaged in listening to Jeff. He was in the boughs of mourning droning on about his girlfriend, now ex, announcing how he couldn't believe she broke up with him. Frankly, I was ecstatic. She was a horridly self-interested person with a lack of empathy and an affinity for breaking lost puppies like Jeff into a heartbroken mess after she had her fun. Besides, Jeff was never around, wrapped on someone else's finger. I offered my condolences towards the unpleasant, yet necessary, situation he was in as I packed a fresh bowl. He would need it. 

Cannabis Sativa, the good shit. With its high THC content, colored trichomes, and white crystallization magnifying the muddled greens and purples blooming underneath, paired with golden caps, was sure to dampen the ache blooming from his chest. Hopefully shut him up too. 

I passed him the glass. Fire sparked, igniting earth. The by-product rushing hungrily, deep into the depths of his lungs like smoke from a hearth. Air, pushed out in a gush, accompanied by the cacophony of coughing that usually follows. He sighed contently and I relaxed my guard. I always hate talking about breakups. My experience in that area is rocky enough without reopening old wounds. 

The high pitched twang of a guitar rising in crescendo guided the flow of conversation. My arm reached down, seemingly of its own accord, towards a bag of chips sitting on the floor. As my hand probed the metallic bag a distinct lack of chip resonated through me and worry started to bloom. A despondent search confirmed my fears. The bag was empty. Jeff responded to the ashen glower I wore with apologies and queries of the usual sort. I tossed him the bag in response and was consoled by the mutual sadness we shared. Though, light shines brightest in a dark room, and a notification from Mac’s shone with vigor. A glance exchanged. A quest born. 

Journey across savage paths of ice towards the oasis Mac’s and bring home a rich bounty of salt and potato! 

Jeff and I, altered in our consciousness as we were, steeled ourselves for the adventure looming ahead. The psychedelic strum of Hendrix drifted drowsily out of a speaker laying entrapped within the folds of my sweater. Running shoes laced tight, just in case. Gum, in. Will, rock solid. Quest, starting. 

We ventured out onto the icy path, lit only by the waxing moon tinged with the glow of street lamps. Our conversation was light, diminished by the beauty and surealty of our surroundings. Icicles, lit with moonlight from within, sparkled in the distance. Great trees loomed above us, the tendrils of their branches reaching down. The sidewalk beckoned and we followed. 

Busy entrapped in the exalted surroundings, we stumbled into an enemy encampment that grew silent upon our revelation. Hard eyes stared as we walked through, accompanied by the haunting flow of Blue Oyster Cult. I breathed a sigh of relief as we exited their territory and made a mental note to avoid them on the return trip. 

Time stretched on for hours in my head and minutes in reality. We churned up the path in our desperate pursuit of glory. Until, appearing spectacularly, a tree bent perpendicular to the ground seemed to reach out with a grasping hand and stop us in our tracks. Jeff was entranced. His entire body leaned to match the arc of what appeared to be a poor man’s Yggdrasil  blocking the way. 

Wind whooshed. Traction lost. The crack of bone on ice and cry for help followed immediately by a pervasive cackle jolted lose a rendition of my own. As we giggled, dopamine rushing through us, a warm glow set in. Like the filter on sunglasses, sunset orange, burned yellow, ripe mango. Comforting, euphoric. Jeff motioned with an outstretched hand, still lying ass down on the ground. I took the hint. With a  re-framed mind we journeyed on-wards. Persistent in our cretinous goal. 

The raw power of Queen, unmolested by interference while we gazed in silent revelment, set the stage. Mac’s lay before us in all its splendor. With a nod we crossed the threshold, trading barren hostility for hospital lights and capitalistic expression. 

A person might take variety for granted. Especially with the massive amount one experiences everyday. But the bountiful treasure before me only served to reinforce its paramounce. Salt, chili, lime, pepper, dill, vinegar, stretched into the distance. Combined in violent ways to coat the piles of delicious golden crisps huddled together all in one package. The golden filter seemed to brighten in response. 

Bag after bag disappeared into the four outstretched arms reaching greedily forward. With our plunder secured, we bumped fists and headed for the doors. As we heard the bells chime our exit a cry rose in protest. Badge flashed, light shone, voice barked. Jeff, eloquent as ever, stammered a retort. A bubble of laughter broke outwards against my restraint as I realised the purpose of our arrest. I motioned with the chips still clutched against my chest towards the register. Jeff made our apologies and followed my line towards the counter. 

Back on the path, invigorated by the wailing melody of Neil Young, the filter slipped. Good thing we came prepared. As we continued our stroll, heavy handed with herbs and spices, I couldn't help but stare at the smoke curling upwards. High into the black of midnight sky. Just like that, the filter clicked back into place and we ventured onwards. Homeward bound.