Endless Yellow Lines

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Literary Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
Two buddies experimenting with hallucinogens."

Submitted: July 14, 2011

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Submitted: July 14, 2011

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The first time he tripped acid he wasn't sure how he liked it.  But the second time he knew.  This fulfilled every expectation of drugs he had ever had.  High school had been full of stories about these harder drugs.  They were nothing more than stories though.  A lot of people smoked pot.  But pot was one thing.  Ben had gone to class four joints fresh plenty of times.  These hallucinogens though.  They could break a man.  Those high school kids were not fucking with the same drugs.

"Hank, we need some beers."

"I agree man."

Hank went into the house and grabbed four nattys.

"Let's go stand out on the road and think of a good spot to watch the sunrise."  They had dropped the acid nearly twelve hours before and were reaching the end of the trip just as the sun was due to rise in the east.

"These yellow lines man..."

"Yellow as fuck, huh?"

"They seem to go on forever.  Just begging us to follow."

"Well, let's follow then."

"After this song."  It was something by the Dropkick Murphys.  "And another beer."

Ben had one drink in each hand.  Excess was his thing.  Because if something was good, then it wasn't good for you.  And anything good for society was not good for him.  Yellow tape, yellow lines, yellow jackets.  Whatever.  They were all here to piss us off.  So they stood out there in the middle of the road and drank.

"What's that star up there dude?"  It was the only star in the sky.

"Shit if I know.  North star?"

"We're facing east."  The sun was about to break the horizon and the acid still had a firm girp.  And this road was too appealing.

"Where does it end?" asked Ben.

"Back at my house.  The yellow lines want me to take a shit."  A vehicle was approaching.  It had been the only automobile they had seen for several hours.

"If that's a cop, will you move?"

"I just have to shit dude."  It turned out to be a white truck with the back open.  The birds were chirping now and the sky was starting to get lighter.  Garbage trucks were making their rounds.

"Let's go back to my place Ben.  I need to drop this load off."

"Grab the beer."

"And the cigarettes," Hank added.

Hank went inside to use the bathroom.  Fresh beer in hand, Ben sat on the porch and lit another Camel.  Smoking was a terrible habit.


© Copyright 2020 Harvey Highwater. All rights reserved.

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