Valleys with Mona

“Good Morning.”

“Uh huh.”

“How many days has it been?”

“Since what?”

“You’ve slept.”

“Three.”

“At this point the debilitating effects of sleep deprivation start.”

“Yay?”

“Not yay. Are you still sick?”

“Sort of.”

“Sort of?”

“Nah. I’m good.”

“Which is it?”

“Which is what?”

“Are you sick or better.”

“Yes.”

“Asshole. I care. Lord knows I shouldn’t, but I do.”

“Lord knows?”

“An expression.”

“Of faith.”

“And?”

“Nothing.”

“All the shit you’ve survived and you still have doubts?”

“Call me Thomas.”

“After the Apsotle?”

“Yep.”

“You know he repented his doubt, right?”

“Judas then?”

“You’re impossible.”

“Yeah.”

“You look like shit.”

“So normal.”

“No.”

“Okay.”

“You’re just not up for banter today, are you?”

“I’m not up for anything.”

“Tamales?”

“Alright, I’m up for one thing.”

“Maybe that girl will be there.”

“It is Tuesday.”

“I know. You could muster up some courage and ask her out finally.”

“So she can shoot me down? Nah.”

“What if she doesn’t?”

“Guess we’ll never know.”

“I’ll ask her for you.”

“Not sure that sends the right message.”

“Maybe she’ll think it is cute that you’re too chicken shit to do it yourself.”

“When you put it that way…”

“We need to snap you put of this funk.”

“I so love funk.”

“Not that kind of funk.”

“Atomic Dog?”

“No.”

“Bootsy?”

“No.”

“We want the funk. Gotta have that funk now.”

“I’m serious.”

“I know.”

“So tamales and a date.”

“Tamales and rejection. The queso will taste like ashes in my mouth.”

“Are you depressed because you’re sick or because that’s just the way the rollercoaster decided to take you?”

“Not sure.”

“Hmm.”

“I’m sorry Mona. I just don’t feel like myself. Which would normally make me super happy. But it seems nothing can make me happy.”

“I hate it when you’re this way.”

“Same.”

“How about some funk?”

“Not the Ohio Players.”

“No Rollercoaster of Love?”

“Chili Peppers ruined it for me.”

“I can see that. So Parliament Funkadelic?”

“Which one?”

“I don’t understand.”

“They were originally two separate bands.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Which do you prefer?”

“Depends. Parliament was more out there. Funkadelic was more rock.”

“So Parliament?”

“Yeah. Probably.”

“It isn’t going to help, is it?”

“No.”

“What is it that has you down like this?”

“Lonely. Sick.”

“That’ll do it.”

“It will.”

“We need some juju to snap you out of it.”

“If that existed I’d carry a bottle at all times.”

“You’d most likely take too much and overdose. Then find yourself on a bender of happiness.”

“True.”

“But what a glorious bender it would be.”

“Yeah. Like when I got that vial of acid and we were putting it on sugar cubes.”

“Who?”

“Me and this guy I used to hang out with. He’s dead.”

“Okay. Continue.”

“Well, we would put on gloves when we did it.”

“Makes sense.”

“Right. Well he goes to the bathroom. Comes back and get to work. An hour later I look at him and he is looking at a sugar cube and talking to it.”

“Is it talking back?”

“Not that I can hear. Then I see. After he went to the bathroom he forgot to put on gloves again.”

“Oh. Oh no.”

“Yeah. I was pissed. I had to eat two sugar cubes just to try and catch up to him.”

“You had to?”

“It’s only fair.”

“And how much acid on one of these?”

“Six hits.”

“So six of the tabs of paper?”

“Sort of. With the vial it is liquid and you do a drop. It works much better and faster. And the trip is more pure.”

“I see. And you just took twelve hits to catch up?”

“Yeah. Your Lord only knows how much he absorbed in that hour.”

“Is that what killed him?”

“No. He died in a car crash.”

“That’s terrible.”

“Yeah. He was a good duder.”

“So how did the night with the twelve hits go?”

“It was sublime. There is a reason people with depression microdose with acid.”

“How long did you trip?”

“Sixteen or so hours. Maybe longer.”

“What did you do?”

“Ever see cosmic bowling?”

“The blacklight kind?”

“Yeah. We went and tried that.”

“Do good?”

“Got kicked out. So then we went to the Arch in St. Louis.”

“Why?”

“Why not?”

“Seems kind of dumb.”

“It was pretty awesome. Until we got banned.”

“Banned?”

“There is this elevator. And we were a little too excited for a third trip.”

“Jeez.”

“So we just wandered St. Louis. Did the Budweiser tour. He nearly got kicked in the face by a Clydesdale.”

“The big ass horse?”

“Yeah, with the furry hooves. He just couldn’t stop rubbing them.”

“And what were you doing?”

“Flirting with a group of ladies.”

“That sounds right.”

“I was full of confidence.”

“And?”

“And what?”

“Did it work?”

“Yes it did. Soon we were all tripping balls and lips. And they knew the city.”

“Because he forgot to put gloves back on.”

“Turned out pretty awesome.”

“Sounds like it.”

“He was always good for a trip.”

“On acid or in the car?”

“Yes.”

“I see.”

Remind me at lunch to tell you about Mount Rushmore.”

“Is that your way of saying you forgot your wallet again?”

“Probably.”

“What am I going to do with you Mikey?”

“Buy lunch and get entertained.”

“I want to hear more about these girls.”

“Well this one had the loveliest set of, umm, eyes…”

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