The Secret Garden

pilgrim wrote:

Jim, I'm going to refuse to read your stories, although very tempted, until the end.
They are just too good, I can't wait from one post 'til the next.
So, all or nothing!

It's a long drawn out tale.

A little before work and abit afterwards.

It didn't take much time over our fire's heat for little steam jets to exit my horn on either end. Removed from the fire's heat it was placed upon the picnic table so as to cool abit.

Charlie already on his second can of liquid lunch made a bold grab for the foil-horn, but this effort was thwarted as Flip put him at distance with the blackened tip of our fire poking stick.Neighbors, old schoolmates,camping compainions, they grew up with each other but had little love between them. A truly strange relationship. Charlie, while in the company of kin like me, or among others who could protect him would torment Flip, often micmicking the BirdMan's facial expressions, speech and body motions.

Flip on the other hand would bully Charlie whenever no one else was around.

As of yet we had no close camping neighbors and that was a good thing. I carefully unwrapped the foil horn exposing it's contents. The tops had shriveled somewhat but were still aromatic,large and colorful enough to render us abit giddy in our anticipation..

I ask Flip if he was holding any papers. From his wallet he produced a pack of EZ-Widers.

"Stick 4 of those together, and twist us up a jumbo"

For Flip, High Bogart Master of Pin Joint rolling, this would prove to be a challenge. I could see it in his eyes, while handing him about a third of one of the big buds to work with. He succeeded with a finished product that had the length and girth of a large cigar.

We considered waiting for the Brothers Dibble while sparking up this well twisted wonder. The Great Bear took no part in this recreational activity, but sat back watching us pass the burning bone around.

We expected it to be harsh, lung expanding and cough inducing, yet upon toking found it to be smooth, with a peppery-mint taste. Oddly enough after 5 hits or so I felt no effect.

Then slow and sure, like a Chicken hungry Fox, it came a creeping..

Little occured for a spell except that our conversation grew more lively. More rapid and amusing as the weed creeped upon us. Then all got quiet. We were sitting at the picnic table in complete silence. Flip and Charlie had rather odd looks about them, their faces wreathed with strange tight-lipped grins. Flip rose as to make a public announcement, then slowly re-seated himself just before bursting into a fit of uncontrollable laughter. "Man you iz gone flippy-dippy" Charlie barked, his large eyes crossed in jest.

Flip's thick glasses had fogged up, and his wild laughter changed into an un-natural tittering cackle. Charlie drained a cold 12oz can of beer, beltched, then issued forth a couple cartoon RoadRunner meep-meeps, followed by a whole cable spool of unwinding, unintelligible gibberish.

Maybe it wasn't gibberish.
Perhaps it was just me as was aloft and in the company of a overly gleeful,yet whacked-out Hyena and the Temple's Sacred Monkey. I could hear the Great Bear's stomach rumbling like a far-off Thunder Boomer, moving closer and growing louder as it approached.

The moisture was running streaks down Flip's glasses as he gasped for air between outbursts of various forms of what could be took as laughter. He was a mess..

Now I wanted to run my mouth, make some noise, see where all of this was going. If only I could stop my head and upper body from swaying along to the music that wasn't playing.

POTENT SHIT !!

It felt as I was getting off on a heavy-duty hallucinogenic drug, yet it differed from acid, Mushrooms or Mescaline.

Flip now had his face buried into his arms atop the table now making a deep muffled humming-laughter sound akin to a mating hairlip BullFrog. He had a private party going on.

The Great Bear got up from the table, shook his shaggy head and said - "Damn, you fuckers looked stoned out of your gourds"
"Gnawed through the noodled" I laughed, then added - "I'm a little fucked-up too" then started rambling out a flood of words which were swiftly forgotten. I had naught a clue of what was being said. In time my blithering trickled down to a series of low grunts as I begun to concentrate upon my own substance induced sensations.

I carried on in such a manner for a few minutes more, then told the Bear - "Think I got too much, but it's real nice up here"

He slapped me on the back and said - "Yep, it sure is nice here at BigMeadows, you should stop back by on your return trip"

Flip had regained his tatterd composure long enough to take a sip from a fountain drink and watch Charlie stand up atop the bench as he went into some kind of whacky
Edgar G. Robertson impersonation directed at the BirdMan -

"You're fucked-up, see, a lightweight,yeah. It's mugs like you who give guys like me a bad name, see, it's curtains for you Flippy!" With that Flip lost it again, knocking his fountain drink over in the process..

" You should try some of this stuff " offering the now burnt-out # to the Bear. He took a long gander at Flip and Charlie's antics, then looked at me and said - " Even if I could, I wouldn't"
as he pulled our campstove out of it's cardboard box.

While The Great Bear went through motions of getting himself a late breakfast going the Brothers Dibble re-entered the encampment. Cleaned, shaved and deodorized they took notice of our present condition and in the jargon of our band R.W. requested
"SmookeWhoodeeSkid" Denny joined in - "SmokeWhoodee, der"

"It's not store bought" Charlie informed them.

Butane flame sparked it up again, but this time I had to pass, as did Flip. Charlie, on the other hand continued puffing with Denny and R.W..They too became gonged to the gills and in time, just like me, had to put it down for awhile.



NEIGHBORS


Our Heathen Encampment had taken up 2 sites, each with a somewhat level pad of ground for tents, a FireRing, and picnic table, seperated by abit of brush and several Trees. Since checking in yesterday evening we had enjoyed a section of the campground to ourselves. Not odd for this time of year, after all the kiddies had returned to school, after LaborDay.
Before then BigMeadows was usually packed all Summer. One has to make reservations in advanced during the tourist season or for the the Changing Fall Colors, but this time of year one can find vacancy at all the BlueRidge Campgrounds..

BigMeadows as the name applies is a huge natural grassy-weedy upland meadow, a short walk away -Dark Hollow Falls. The area provides a campground for tenters and RVers, campstore, a beautiful old lodge/dining hall, guest suites and breakfastnook/fastfood stand.

Deer, Skunks,Birds, upland Amphibians and Insects,BigMeadows is loaded with all sorts of Wildlife as well including several Whacked-Out, Under the Influence, yet over the clouds campers. Abit off the beaten path, indulging in High Adventure, but still friendly and courteous to some degree.

Being way too bombed to attempt any cooking the 5 of us watched Bear scarfing down a hearty breakfest consisting of 4 fried brown country eggs, a whole pack of bacon and campfire toast, while we munched upon jerky, chips and whatever else that could be ripped open and consumed. At one point Charlie perched Squirrel-like upon the bench next to the Bear's plate begging for a bacon slice, until the shaggy giant growled, then waved his yolk-covered fork dangerously close to the lad's face backing him away.


It was then we heard the sound of tires turning gravel.

Heads turned as we looked on with blank facial expressions at the slowly passing stationwagon pulling a pop-up, occupants inside the vehicle waving and smiling. Still feeling the effects while giving our crew the once over I thought - 'We can only hope they'll move on down a good bit, for their own sake and wonderful yet sane camping experience'

That was not to be the case as they halted and then started to back up their rig right beside our Heathen Encampment.

"Put away the fun stuff and cup yer hard drink" The Bear's booming voice broke the spell and spurred some of us into action. He was correct. We were on Federal Lands and with the Reagans 'Just Say No' policy directing both Heads and Law Enforcement Agencies into new, different directions or measures, we decided to play it as safe as possible for the likes of us.

Hard drink was another matter as in most campgrounds, private, Federal or State Park as long as you don't display the original containers, quaff from mug or cup, along with not letting anything get out of hand,, the Rangers would overlook such public socialdrinking infractions.

But with unknown neighbors beside us meant some kind of handle had to be kept on our vacation situation, especially with 6 hardworking Blue-Collar Kats away for over a week from the rigors of the weekday round, the polite gentleness of domestic life and same old patch of ground forever roamed over by too many folk. along with a storage tent loaded with hard spirits, beer, ale and a goodly amount of high-grade Whoodee..


The Bear placed his empty plate upon our table, got up and called me aside..

His reason was one of serious concern - "Hey man, I really don't want to spend my vacation awaiting court in some small town pokey" Continuing he discussed options - "Chucky, we can pass off as being special, but since the rest of us didn't come in a bus, we cannot all plead Not Guilty by Reason if some major fuck-up occurs"

I thought - 'True, Rangers and the rest of the National Forest employees would not let this many unattended crazy people have a campfire, but sometimes as in our present state, it happens'


" Chucky Being Special ?" I asked.

"Just look at that whacked-out bastard" The Bear returned with a snarl.

Charlie had come across some of Flip's young Daughter's Mr. PotatoHead plastic parts that had managed to get into the campstove box, and was currently with unblinking large frog-like eyes getting together his own creation with a large camp spud. Inserted PotatoMan eyes uneven, off keeter one a full two inches below the other. a single arm sticking from the groin area, and a funny plastic mouth where a hat should be. It looked to be a Picaso PotatoHead. I could appreciate it in my state. The Dibbles burst into loud snickering after Charlie presented to Flip and declared - " It's suppose to be you Flippy"


The Great Bear mentioned - " If we got him one of those padded helmets, other people wouldn't be so overly curious"

"Hey man, dig yourself, that was cold " I objected.

"Keep a sharp eye on those Dibbles, you know what happens when they get too snockered"

True, only a month earlier they all but destroyed R.W.'s apartment in yet another bout of drunken brother against drunken brother. The Bear and I let them go at it until both were winded and bloody, then we raided R.W.'s fridge for some grub before splitting the scene.

We heard the cheerful sounds of our neighbors making camp, but they were soon drowned out following Denny flicking our boombox on and some local to near FM radio station belting out some old Leon Russell.

Everything stored somewhat out of sight we began to get into the spirits. No sightseeing today as 5 of us had poured ourselves a strong one, while The Bear guzzled Ale from his drinking horn, given to him as a gag present he brought it along always for campground quaffing. A head taller than the rest of us and packing on a good hundred pounds more, he was a good fellow to have around during a hassle. Not being able to partake and ready to cut loose he proceeded to pour large amounts of the cool amber ale down his gullet.

We more or less put him in charge for the time being

I guess we were all aiming at getting abit loose, or sociably tanked if our new neighbors decided to dare a friendly visit.

And visit they would..

"Well at least they waved at us" Denny said while attempting to peer through the greenery at our new neighbors. He was right, they did in fact waved and were smiling while doing so.

The 6 of us, bloodshot eyes, rough-garbed, long hair, beards, axes, an array of sheathed hunting knives, clubs, staffs, loud rock music, Deer skull lashed to a sapling ,, Regular run of the mill campers could easily mistake us as being crazed drugged-up members of a killer Hippy-like cult.

By making camp next to us could mean these folk are also ready to throw down, they're oblivious or they are Anthropologists here to make a documentary.Perhaps with the college or maybe even PBS.




But we never been asked to leave a campground.

In no time it seemed they were popped-up and geared down. Above the music I heard a car door close. They started up their stationwagon and pulled out, and drove off.

"Going for supplies I'd suspect"

Again the sound of wheels turning gravel got our attention. We expected to see either Staff,Ranger or campers passing by, but it was our neighbors again, driving slow even for a campground, barely creeping. I guess they did the loop and were coming back for perhaps a cooler. This time they braked it in front of our pull-in, waved again and shouted friendly sounding - HIs and hellows from the open window of their vehicle. We extended strange waves, raised cups and hallos. After this initial meeting they drove off once more.

From 20 or so feet at a stop we got a better look at our neighbors. There were three of them and they appeared to be alot older than us, perhaps in their 60s. By the looks of it there were 2 old ladies and a man.


Fuck, we really didn't need anyone having a heartattack at 4 am because of Charlie or somebody else going into the wrong tent after taking a drunken leak. Well we have had closer calls.



Hard spirits had taken the edge off the power-puff, we talked about getting an early supper started. There was meat in the cooler which had to be grilled tonight, before going into town for more. With little effort we had glowing coals in our 2 round Weber Grills. Flip started some camp beans and taters, while the Others pulled raw ribeyes from the 2 family packs purshased at Waynesboro yesterday.

Soon the aroma of sizzling meat drifted through our Heathen Encampment..

Interesting story LongHunter, you really do have an incredibly effective command of the language, great story telling brother. I can picture the garden, your camp, and companions w/ ease.

Interesting bunch to boot. Sounds like you've got your hands full, stuck in between Bear and the boys. It's always good to have that one guy like Bear around to give ya a smack on the back of the head and tell ya to get your shit together when it's getting away from ya. Slowly but surely through trial but mostly error, I'm finding myself turning into that guy amongst my goofball buddies.

I'll bet you guys would have a blast at some of the big summer music festivals. I go to as many every summer as I can, and they're basicly everything you've described here (sans secret gardens!) plus tons of live music.

WineHippie wrote:

all i know is, if i had nurtured 27 female beauties
to almost harvest and found someone had come
in and raped them, i woulda been heartbroken......

I know how you feel WH, but then again it sounds like the plants were on federal public lands, so there's an even greater risk to the grower who I'm sure would gladly part w/ 1/4, 1/2, 1, 2 lbs. etc... in exchange for the continued livelyhood of his or her 'secret garden'. Hell I 'll admit it, I know I'd have been right there pulling out my knife next to ya LH, I mean it's not like they broke into anyone's basement, and it sounds like they only took a small percentage of the whole. There has to be a certain level of understanding that peeps might stumble upon your spot if you set up on public lands like that.

Anywho, bravo for your restraint on heading back to the garden thus far LH, seems to me that would indeed be a bit greedy and potentially more hazardous than your first visit, can't wait to read the conclusion.

p.s. do you fly fish? I just picked up the fly rod a few years ago and can't go back to the little trout rig even thought I catch half as many fish w/ flies as I used to w/ powerbait.

Some FlyFishing, but sometimes the more I do it, the worse I am.At times my FlyFishing endeavors look like something out of a early Jerry Lewis Movie. That's why I always carry an ultra-light spincasting rod and reel.

We're going up in the hills here during the 3rd weekend of April, but not camping this time as others in our band have voted for a cabin rental at some place called Cabin Creekwood near Sherando Lake. Hopefully the Brookies will be biting. Stop by if in the area.

I've caught stocked Trout off of power bait, but know the Trout love 'red wigglers' Helgamites and small crawfish, especially the softshell ones after molt.

raulduke wrote:

WineHippie wrote:

all i know is, if i had nurtured 27 female beauties
to almost harvest and found someone had come
in and raped them, i woulda been heartbroken......

I know how you feel WH, but then again it sounds like the plants were on federal public lands, so there's an even greater risk to the grower who I'm sure would gladly part w/ 1/4, 1/2, 1, 2 lbs. etc... in exchange for the continued livelyhood of his or her 'secret garden'. Hell I 'll admit it, I know I'd have been right there pulling out my knife next to ya LH, I mean it's not like they broke into anyone's basement, and it sounds like they only took a small percentage of the whole. There has to be a certain level of understanding that peeps might stumble upon your spot if you set up on public lands like that.

sorry, yer dukeness, sounds like rationalization to me....
being an old hippie, i developed a sense of honor and
comradery with other smokers... we would think nothing
of ripping of a corporation or cheating on taxes, but would
never, EVER, rip off a fellow doper... these guys didn't
take a few buds to smoke, they stuffed a backpack full....
once again, i say

WineHippie wrote:

raulduke wrote:

WineHippie wrote:

all i know is, if i had nurtured 27 female beauties
to almost harvest and found someone had come
in and raped them, i woulda been heartbroken......

I know how you feel WH, but then again it sounds like the plants were on federal public lands, so there's an even greater risk to the grower who I'm sure would gladly part w/ 1/4, 1/2, 1, 2 lbs. etc... in exchange for the continued livelyhood of his or her 'secret garden'. Hell I 'll admit it, I know I'd have been right there pulling out my knife next to ya LH, I mean it's not like they broke into anyone's basement, and it sounds like they only took a small percentage of the whole. There has to be a certain level of understanding that peeps might stumble upon your spot if you set up on public lands like that.

sorry, yer dukeness, sounds like rationalization to me....
being an old hippie, i developed a sense of honor and
comradery with other smokers... we would think nothing
of ripping of a corporation or cheating on taxes, but would
never, EVER, rip off a fellow doper... these guys didn't
take a few buds to smoke, they stuffed a backpack full....
once again, i say

It was terrible. I'm sure if they caught us and cut our feet off, we'd never do it again.

Among the mass quanity of large flowering buds, it was only a little, packed into a small pack. But didn't I already touch upon that earlier ? Could your statements be coming from another place, friend ?


Anyway..

I was not the least bit surprised while watching Bear carefully tending a slab of meat upon one of our grills. The man could eat his way out of a Shark's belly and demand seconds.

Like me he did not like his steak swiftly seared on both sides then put on the plate, like Charlie and the Dibbles. Approaching The Great Bear at his work I said "Shit man, you just ate enough breakfast for 2 full grown men, and now you're licking your lips over a ribeye"
Straightening up to his full height with serious gray eyes and pair of metal tongs in hand, he asked - "Can I help you with something ?" I told him as long as he was tending grill - "Make mine medium-well"..

Charlie along with the Dibble Brothers had already removed theirs off the coals and placed them on paper plates where they soon lay in a puddles of warm red gore.

A little more time and several more turns and Bear was finished with our steaks, yet Flip toiled on. Camp taters and beans completed he turn his attention to burning a good cut of meat into charred remains. All of us shook our heads in disgust, but broke into laughter after R.W. asked the BirdMan if he needed a urn for his ribeye.

Ale,beer along with hard spirits washed our feast down greasy gullets and there was much chomping, lip-smacking and beltching to be heard above the table as there was nobody there to order us to close mouths while chewing.

With stomachs well coated there would be scant chance of spewing high-quality booze upon the good upland soil. Yet at some celebrations there was always someone who managed to puke his way through a good party..

With the stench of charred flesh hanging about our encampment, Flip had at last seated himself then neatly placed what use to be a good cut of meat beside his sides of taters and beans. The Bear commented - "It looks like an old flat roof patch"

"I can't eat my steak half-raw or bloody like you Possums" The BirdMan said one hand gripping hard upon his fork pinning down his black meat-clod, while the other wielded his steakknife in a back and forth hacksaw motion.

I slapped him on his boney back - "You better hope that cinder doesn't rip a tear in your sphincter as it passes" Flip payed me no mind as he crunched his first chunck of overly well-done steak then flushed the black particles downwards with an ale quaff.

What a charcter. A lean wiry fellow of middle height, a faded red bandana knotted about his head Apache style. Dark Crow-like eyes above a bird-like beak nose. Those eyes darted about behind a pair of thick gold rimmed specs. But the real eye catcher was his wide collared, buttoned, short sleeved, light blue shirt complete with dark grey various antique car prints all over it. It may of been fitting for some 65 year old Moose Lodge Member, but Flip always had a strange sense of attire.

Adding to his strange appearance Flip was born on October 31. A Halloween Baby. Charlie often called him 'Gooney'. Regardless, he was a man of fair wood and camping craft, but tended to be selfish, greedy and abit of a bogart at times.

Famished as we were, supper became all but a burp and fart.

And the Celebration got underway. Mugs, cups and a Bull's horn were filled in quick fashion as we attempted to keep open containers out of sight. Jokes, funny gestures and laughter measured our lofty condition. Charlie tossed Mr.Party Potato Head into our campfire. Cackling with insane simian joy as the plastic parts melted over his fast baking potato body. In swift motion he knocked it out of the fire, then placed it again upon our table. To him and maybe for a couple of others abit later this was Art.

"We are gonna need more ice for tonight" declared Dibble Denny . He was mixing his spirits and wanted to keep them cool in going down on a rather warm late Summer's early Evening..

We had planned taking the drive northward up Skyline Drive over Hawksbill Mountain and a few more ridges then cutting westward on Route 211 into Luray to re-supply foodstuffs and of course enough ice to see us through for another day and abit. Knowing full well the distance between BigMeadows and nearest big grocery store we each came prepared with a large cooler, plus 2 or 3 smaller ones. We'd top off ale/beer stocks, cop some porkcops, chicken and perhaps more beef. Figured on getting some sausage, hotdogs and abit more bacon as well. Had enough brown eggs as my Father-n-law owned a farm with plenty of laying hens. With that we would stay in grub and suds for a few more days. If we could just get a handle on ourselves for one evening there was plans of having dinner at the Lodge. The Bear had some heavy-duty painkillers ready if Charlie had to be sedated before eating at a public place. My mind was set on Quail, Wildrice and Morels.

For now we only had need of a few bags, to keep it all cool, and us in business for the Night.

Flip and I decided to make the ice run, Bear wanted to come along too. Piling out of Flip's truck moments later we found ourselves half-crocked in the store's small parking lot. Old blurry memories bounced about within my skull..

Those memories shattered, falling into deep dark holes once again as The BirdMan started jabbering away about going back for more buds and with a smirk and eyes uplifted mumbled how many Bucks could be made in sales.

The Great Bear turned and pointed his walking stick just short of Flip's beak growling objections which then I cut in attempting to quell any more talk of greedy ambitions while on Vacation. "Starting on this trip we had about an oz of shitty grass between us, but after this Morning's walk, free and easy like, 2 ounces of trip-weed apiece was added to the stash. Maybe we should just leave it that and gloat upon our small fortune"

The Great Bear lent abit of wisdom as well - "You greedy little fuck, you have good food, drink, plenty of reefer, comrades, new neighbors and Mountains." He then asked slightly slurring - "Now that you have these things, why risk all in an unnecessary venture ?"

Flip leap upon a curb in a effort to make himself abit taller - "But just think of all the smoke
and money we could have, it could pay for this trip and more"

Disgusted by his rudeness by once again badgering this matter upon me I let loose in swift sure manner -

" And on this next downhill jaunt you'll of course will be taking a bigger pack, maybe 2,, hell, why not just bring some Hefty Trash Bags, fill em up with tops, leaves, stems and all ?

I want no more to do with it, got enough , my smoking pouch is going to be beyond full with what there already is and that suits me fine. I can't tell you what to do, but if even a mere mention of what we found is revealed to the others before we're packing to go next Saturday,, I'll nail hang you on a Tree like a lantern"

"And if Jim don't I will" The Bear said still towering over both Flip and his curb. "Let's not totally fuck up this Vacation "

Now memories resurfaced as I walked into the Store.

The Bear and I had been here some 9 years earlier, tripping our brains out and barely escaping with whole skin after the clerk phoned for a Ranger.

It was purely an unplanned weekend adventure gone wrong inside this small market under the influence of more LSD than we had ever done before. It started out in Newport News Virginia after The Great Bear and I picked up 100 hits of Purple Micro-dot from our connection who kept the whole lot in a Lucky Charms Cereal box within his fridge...

Well to make a short story within a longer story abit shorter we had popped 2 hits remembering the weak potency of the last batch copped earlier. A triple dose should surely get us there. We decided to unload a good deal of the dot at a party another friend was having at a old farmhouse on the edge of town about 20 minutes away. First the Great Bear wanted to pick up some mail from the Post Office and fill his gas tank afterwards before hitting the party. A wreck on Jefferson held us up for awhile, but the flashing emergency lights appeared strangely different and by the time a tow truck arrived to drag away the crunched-up hulk of what use to be a Buick Regal we had already began to feel a certain tingling in our heads. But those Flashing Lights provided a starting point to a different type of journey The Great Bear and I had ventured out upon.

The Post Office was very bright inside and all sounds within seemed to echo. The Bear picked up his mail while I watched patterns in the floor tile form weird animated shapes.

I'll say this - This new batch far exceeded the last in noticeable potency and swiftly did it take hold. The Bear had noticed as well and mentioned that "We should ask 5 bucks a hit instead of 3..

We managed to reach a gas station/mini-mart. By then the acid was taking hold but quick !

Man was I whacking out big time. The Bear grabbed my shoulder in a savage grip and said -
"Here's some money" one paw pulling out a wad of cash "I'll pump the gas, you go in there and pay" Oh fuck, why me ?? He just smiled and stuck in the nozzle. Things did not go as planned, but soon we were traveling Nortward up Jefferson making for the party.

Don't drive on acid folks.

"Oh fucking great man" The Bear exclainmed fumbling with his rear-view mirror "I think the cops are behind us"

"Oh no" I said, "They're gonna get us for not paying for the gas"

"What do you mean - not paying for the gas ?" Bear growled. After yet another failed attempt to make out who was following us because of the bright halo-like headlights of whatever vehicle was trailing behind I explained to The Great Bear that after exiting his car how gas pumps were melting before my eyes and upon entering the store to make payment I encountered a 'Fred Flintstone' looking clerk with no visible neck and only four digits on each hand. There was panic on my part prompting me to turn tail and bolt out without paying.

Hopefully he understood my recent plight..

We veered off on Route 17 in hopes of shaking our pursuers. Ducking into a small neighborhood RedNeck bar was not a wise choice, but we needed to gather thoughts, get our shit together so to speak, but could not manage to finish a beer because Bear thought the Bar Maid to be some simian hybrid Monkey Woman. She did seem to have a protruding Baboon-like muzzle, but so did alot of the other patrons as well. Not wanting our skulls and shinbones cracked open for brains and marrow treats we departed with all haste passing a female seated by the door who seemed to be grooming the alpha-male for parasites. It was like being in a National Geographic Television Special.

Attempting to get back on Jefferson further up proved to go bad as once again we imagined 'Stealth Police' were following again, taking their time, studying our habits,keeping us on edge, before coming in for the kill. At one point it got so bad the fear pushed us to extremes. "Chuck those hits out the window Jim !" Bear commanded.

Fuck man, a 100 bucks down the drain I thought. "Hey, lets do some more before they go out all over the road" I said while scooping out several more handing them to The Bear, where he gulped them down as I did the same..