I’m a glorified televangelist. I’m a chloroformed TV signal. God I wish my retinas had cathode lens.

This weed was dank. I was blazing with Rip over at his place.

I passed the joint back to him. I was in the middle of talking.

“Dude, remember how I was saying the old hag that kidnapped my folks was a Baba Yaga right? After I saw that Arthur episode on PBS?”

“Oh yeah. Fuck man I’m stoned.” He coughed while he spoke. He was drugged and so was I. Our high versions were like mirror images of when we were kids. I was goofy and weird, he was quiet and longing.

“Well dude, I was reading the Wikipedia on Baba yaga’s and I found out if the Baba Yaga asks a question it ages a year. “

I was now sitting on a floating temple high above the sky with a Rastafarian male holding an ounce joint. He passed it to me.

“So, like, what I’m saying is that, this guy, painted these cats, right man? He painted them as cartoons, like, dressed as a sailor or an army man. But it turns out the man was insane, and slowly he turned his cats into crazy psychedelic florescent beauties. I mean’ shit man, if insanity makes you that creative, I hope I go schizo. Hahaha”

I said this phrase as I inhaled the amazing smoke.

The Rasta looked at me and smiled as his jaw suddenly hit the floor.  Thousands of black tentacles fired out at an extreme rate.  They would swallow me whole,

Then, I felt warmth I had never felt. A beam shot over my head, and absorbed the Rasta in pale gold light. The tentacles simply disappeared.

An angel came to me as the temple fell. The Temple fell from the sky, colliding with the ground, killing me on impact. And I held the hand of the Angel with all life held in his box.

I’m watching some infomercials from the nineties.

My mind had finally come out of its chrysalis. I knew now what I must do.

Never before had I fought the monsters that plagued my nights. Never before had I ever tried to find out why they come to torture me. But now I would.

I would get into their heads. Into the heads of my own fucking demons. 

    

A dealer’s house.  Luke was one of my dealers.

So I was over at Luke’s buds place. The kids name was Johnny. He had a sweet setup. He got the pool house in his back. We smoked weed there all day everyday.

So I was over.

Pool House.

Weed.

ESCAPE PLAN NUMBER ONE

I went to the barrier of town. I was high on weed. Shit was a barrier.

Like literally.

I held a sword in my hand. My tunic was light blue like light. I held a sword in my hand. I saw the beast look at me. The beast was violet. Violet fur. As I walked through the door. The door to the mind. The beast engulfed me. Oblivion. I held a sword in my hand.

“Do you like to play games?” I asked. That freckled face looked back, and a smile appeared, almost like magic. A peripheral smile.

“I like playing games with monsters. I pretend I’m a knight and I can kill them really easily.” She stated giggling.

She lived in my basement, and she became my best friend. I never met her dad, and my parents never noticed her. When Sophia came up for the first time, I tried introducing her to my parents. They couldn’t hear me when I tried to get their attention.

I tried tugging on my mom’s dress, but my hands went through her body.

I was really scared, but I didn’t want to look like a coward in front of Sophia. So I ignored it. I ignored it. I ignored it.  You’ve got a lot to learn, Jesse.

So I took her to the park. I don’t remember how I got there. We walked under autumn trees, but they were dull, out of color. Out of sync with the world. 

This was my first experience of the way my mind really works. Up until now, my childhood had been very happy, and more importantly, normal. But now, my life would be changed forever. Spooky!

My surroundings were the color of television. Meaning they looked like seventies projected TV shows. Out of color, out of sync. Saturated, drained. Surreal in it’s dripping fluorescent shades of failed technology. I wonder sometimes.

Without any real intent, Sophia and I appeared at Fletchers Field. It was a little park, near my house. It oozed with that sickly aura of good intentions destroyed.  Beyond the rotten wood barrier were faces in the trees. Fangs and eyes.  Howling squared heads of orcish leaves.

“Lets go on the swings!” Shouted my love.

“Are you sure?”

“Dead I’ve never been more sure in my entire life.”

I trusted her. I trusted her. I trusted her. My little glass eyes watered up. She was so amazing. I could see the glow of her heart beat through her white dress. The molecules vibrated the sky and lit up my retina.  It was so stunning I cried forever.

As the chains of the swings moved the sun set seven times. Each one became a different brilliant shade of faded film.