Post by High Tide on Jun 18, 2018 22:54:29 GMT -5
I found myself walking a lot more lately. Walking with my feet and walking with my thoughts. Always walking. Reflecting, I guess people called it. Was this the right path I was going down? Was this the way?
Even now I found myself walking this time the setting a little more unfamiliar. I hadn't been in such a wooded area in a long time, and it was quite different. My feet did not slap across pavement, but instead made dull thuds in the hard dirt below my newly polished boots. They had seen some extra wear lately, and I always liked to show them a little love.
Yet what was I reflecting upon? Well I had finally dropped the deadweight of my old partner Wasp. Him and his new “lady” were old news, dust in the wind, nothing. Nada. What had happened once I had buried my past? A new future had sprung up. A future where I had won my last match, somehow, someway. Sure, I might have pulled it out of my ass, but I had won, hadn't I? That was a start. A win was far from a guarantee the way things had been going for me lately.
The wind rustled the many leaves above my head, their thin green forms almost whistling a strange tune. That same wind brought a smell to my nose, it's familiar odor lingering in the airway for a moment and as I walked forward, it became stronger and stronger. Yes there was no mistaking it, someone or someones, somewhere close, was smoking a lot of weed.
I pressed on through the dense underbrush, pushing greenery out of my way in a quest for even better greenery. Maybe these people would share. After all, my match against Arsen Goodstone wasn't for another day, what would a little whacky tobaccy hurt? I mean, hell, I was drunk most of the time anyways and that didn't seem to affect me... too much.
Suddenly without warning I burst into a clearing, one I had no idea was there. Standing in a group, a huddle really, was about twenty or thirty people. Too many for me to bother counting. A couple looked at me, and I readied myself to run the way I had come, but I was beckoned over instead. This left me curious. Clearly they didn't consider me a threat or some kind of party crasher. After all, why would they, I was one man dressed in pirate gear, and they were thirty stoners. I knew who would win that fight.
I joined the huddle, who all seemed to be not talking, barely making any sound. They were waiting for something, I could tell by the eager, anticipation on their faces. Someone passed me a joint, to which I eagerly nodded my approval and took a rather delightful hit off of it. I almost thanked him verbally but then I remembered, no one else was talking, I didn't wanna ruin that silence. I took a couple more puffs before passing it along. Puff, puff, pass, something I had learned in high school. A couple more came my way and in a matter of ten minutes, I really was HIGH Tide.
Then came the moment they had all been waiting for. I saw a man appear from the other side of the clearing. Tall. Monstrously built. Fire red hair. A long beard. A walking spectacle but who was I, a pirate to judge. He looked like he'd make a good friend. Not a “rum is my best friend” kind of good friend. But good enough. I waited, eager to know what the hell was going on with the rest of them.
He stepped forward, everyone's attention fully on him. “Tonight, WE BURN!” was all he yelled and the crowd went absolutely ecstatic. For some reason I found myself cheering too. Why the hell was I cheering? Who knew.
Chaos broke out quickly, as people began pulling out matches, lighters, small torches and began to set the surrounding greenery quickly ablaze. I stood in awe, watching the spectacle unfold until someone noticed I wasn't having enough fun and handed me a small torch. I looked at them, looked at it, back at them and smiled. “What the hell,” I said and began to set fire to a small tree of my own. Here I was, a night before my match, committing arson while good and stoned.
Sometimes removing dead weight really meant life did get better.
Even now I found myself walking this time the setting a little more unfamiliar. I hadn't been in such a wooded area in a long time, and it was quite different. My feet did not slap across pavement, but instead made dull thuds in the hard dirt below my newly polished boots. They had seen some extra wear lately, and I always liked to show them a little love.
Yet what was I reflecting upon? Well I had finally dropped the deadweight of my old partner Wasp. Him and his new “lady” were old news, dust in the wind, nothing. Nada. What had happened once I had buried my past? A new future had sprung up. A future where I had won my last match, somehow, someway. Sure, I might have pulled it out of my ass, but I had won, hadn't I? That was a start. A win was far from a guarantee the way things had been going for me lately.
The wind rustled the many leaves above my head, their thin green forms almost whistling a strange tune. That same wind brought a smell to my nose, it's familiar odor lingering in the airway for a moment and as I walked forward, it became stronger and stronger. Yes there was no mistaking it, someone or someones, somewhere close, was smoking a lot of weed.
I pressed on through the dense underbrush, pushing greenery out of my way in a quest for even better greenery. Maybe these people would share. After all, my match against Arsen Goodstone wasn't for another day, what would a little whacky tobaccy hurt? I mean, hell, I was drunk most of the time anyways and that didn't seem to affect me... too much.
Suddenly without warning I burst into a clearing, one I had no idea was there. Standing in a group, a huddle really, was about twenty or thirty people. Too many for me to bother counting. A couple looked at me, and I readied myself to run the way I had come, but I was beckoned over instead. This left me curious. Clearly they didn't consider me a threat or some kind of party crasher. After all, why would they, I was one man dressed in pirate gear, and they were thirty stoners. I knew who would win that fight.
I joined the huddle, who all seemed to be not talking, barely making any sound. They were waiting for something, I could tell by the eager, anticipation on their faces. Someone passed me a joint, to which I eagerly nodded my approval and took a rather delightful hit off of it. I almost thanked him verbally but then I remembered, no one else was talking, I didn't wanna ruin that silence. I took a couple more puffs before passing it along. Puff, puff, pass, something I had learned in high school. A couple more came my way and in a matter of ten minutes, I really was HIGH Tide.
Then came the moment they had all been waiting for. I saw a man appear from the other side of the clearing. Tall. Monstrously built. Fire red hair. A long beard. A walking spectacle but who was I, a pirate to judge. He looked like he'd make a good friend. Not a “rum is my best friend” kind of good friend. But good enough. I waited, eager to know what the hell was going on with the rest of them.
He stepped forward, everyone's attention fully on him. “Tonight, WE BURN!” was all he yelled and the crowd went absolutely ecstatic. For some reason I found myself cheering too. Why the hell was I cheering? Who knew.
Chaos broke out quickly, as people began pulling out matches, lighters, small torches and began to set the surrounding greenery quickly ablaze. I stood in awe, watching the spectacle unfold until someone noticed I wasn't having enough fun and handed me a small torch. I looked at them, looked at it, back at them and smiled. “What the hell,” I said and began to set fire to a small tree of my own. Here I was, a night before my match, committing arson while good and stoned.
Sometimes removing dead weight really meant life did get better.
