I am all alone now; I don’t know where I’m headed. I don’t quite know how I got out here either. In fact, I don’t know where I am. Its all been quite confusing you see. Where did it all begin? How did it end? Is this blood on my shirt? I dunno...
I think it started when he helped me from the car. I was in an accident you see, and it was a fairly bad one too. I don't have a driver’s license, but I’m not too bad at driving. In fact it wasn’t my fault in the first place. But then again the insurance agencies don’t care about that now do they? The bastard hit me, ran a red light you see, driving about 60, smashed the entire passenger’s side, and crunched me up against the door. I think my head was bleeding, the windshield was busted and the glass had cut me pretty bad. It probably didn’t help that my head had been flung into the driver’s side door either. But these are all details, which we don’t need.
The point is that he helped me from the car. I was sitting there in a daze, blood running down my scalp, into my eye and I looked up and saw a tall Mexican peering down at me with a stern face. “Need a little help there man?” he asked me with a thick Mexican accent.
“If it wouldn’t be too much trouble.” I replied back. He tried to open the door but it was jammed pretty bad, so he just pulled me through the window which was already down and helped me up. I looked around, still quite dazed and confused, and noticed something, which probably saved our lives. Gas, dripping from the tank of my car, and a small flame on the engine. I quickly jumped out of the way, taking him down with me, and no sooner had I done this than the car exploded in a blast of hot flames.
“That really sucks man.” He said with a subtle smile on his face.
“Don’t worry about it,” I said. “It wasn’t my car anyway...”
And that’s where it started I think. He had saved my life, but I had also saved his, so I guess we sort of felt like we owed each other something. But its coming back slowly now, I can almost remember it.
Well of course he knew that I would be in a lot of trouble once the authorities got there, I don’t think we even checked to see if the other guy was ok. We just ran, ran for about two or three miles before he slowed us down. “This is my place here,” he said pointing up to the four-story apartment he had stopped in front of. “Want to come in for a beer or something?”
“Why not, I need to sit down anyway.” He led me up the stairs, three flights I think, I should know by now but it’s just a bit fuzzy you know? Well anyhow he led me up the stairs and into his apartment. Not too fancy: kitchen, living room, two bedrooms, two bath. The paint was chipping on the walls and he needed a new carpet but over all it was a fairly decent place. He opened the ‘fridge and handed me a beer, which I opened with my Swiss-army knife and immediately took a few gulps. It was insane what was going through my head, the list of events leading up to the wreck, but I just went into his living room and sat down on the couch uninvited. He didn’t mind of course and I was still kind of shook up by what had happened.
“You ok man?” he asked, his accent a bit thicker than I remembered.
“Yeah, it was just a little crazy. I don’t know what happened, did you see it?”
“Uh huh, you were broad sided by some dude runnin’ a red light. Completely ruined your—the car you were driving. How’d you get that thing anyway?”
“Same way I get all my cars, I stole it. Its not really hard at all, people are so trusting, it almost makes me feel bad.”
“Yeah, I bet it does,” he said with a chuckle. What he did next was what made our events take a sudden course change. He very subtly pulled out a small, homemade chab that was already loaded and set it on the coffee table in front of me. He then took out a lighter and put it next to the chab. He chuckled some more as he walked out of the room.
Now this was a very odd thing, I mean I had just met the guy but still, I hadn’t done any cha since I was in high school. Its not that I quit because it was bad for me or anything, its just that I never really got around to it, it was never really an addiction it was just like “Well, it would be nice if I had some but I don’t so, oh well.” No big deal ya know? So I looked around me, from side to side that is in typical chahead fashion and picked up the lighter with my right hand and putting my thumb of my left hand over the hole I lit up.
This chab gave really good hits too; I was coughing real bad after my second. And suddenly a familiar feeling came over me: I was a bit chaed as I’m sure the British would put it. After about four hits I had finished the bowl and I was pretty messed up let me tell you. But I didn’t stop there, oh no. You see, he hadn’t had any yet and so when he got back we shared another bowl. This cha was potent too man, it would really mess you up, and I had already had too much, but he hadn’t. So we did about three more bowls before the munchies started to take over. That was when it was time to head to taco bell, the official store for chaheads.
Anyways, we did end up going to taco bell. I ordered my usual: 2 beef Baja chalupas, and he ordered one of those new zesty burritos. And this is where the strange stuff started happening. And it didn't start slowly either, it just came at us as one big huge wave of crazy crap that I will indeed go into, and that will be for chapter two.