cow

White people throw great parties and, at times, those parties involve bonfires. One of the first bonfire parties I attended occurred simultaneously with the first time I ingested mushrooms. My homeboy from Little League Paulie was my smoking partner. Paul was one of those kids who dropped out of high school with his parents permission & his whole day revolved around getting toasted. We put in and got a half O of shrooms with instructions to “take’em right before sunset & see what happens.”

Great.

Around 5:30-6 pm & right on schedule, we chewed’em up (they taste like the driest cheese you’ve ever eaten), smoked a couple of joints and, sure enough, by 6:30-7 pm, the sun was falling & the sky became one of the beautifullest thing I ever laid my eyes on. All hues of red, green, blue & orange melted together into a swirl. Mellowed the fuck out, Paul suggested “let’s go by _______’s (insert name I forget) house. He’s having a bonfire.” Loaded, I figured “why not enjoy these new experiences to the fullest?” Darkness started to fall as we piled in his ’88 Ford Taurus went.

After being there for about an hour or so, the party, complete with two kegs (white people hehe), a big ass fire and good times. What I found out afterwards is that the unusual slowing down of time was part of the “tripping balls” process. We were @ the party for what seemed like hours and hours, when in reality it was only maybe forty-five minutes. Still, all was well. Until the cops came…I think.

I can’t rightly remember because being under the influence of a hallucinogenic and throwed off by whatever else I’d consumed, the only thing I could think was “COPS. UNDERAGE. NEGRO. JAIL. RUN.” The house was in a wooded area & surrounded by trees. One minute I was standing beside Paul in a crowd. The next, someone yelled “Cops!” we split up and sprinted towards the edge of the trees. Approximately ten to fifteen minutes pass & I realize, I’m stuck standing in some trees with no way home because we rode with Paul. I start hissing out as low as I can “Paauulllll, Paaullll!” Finally, he replies and we meet up. Deciding the coast was clear, we emerge from the trees only to find everybody else still pretty much chillin’ & sippin’ from their plastic cups. They didn’t run because the cops didn’t trip once a few of the more upwardly mobile white teens told them that their parents were home, everything was under control yada ya.

Now, you? You’re prolly like me. Even though your story may be different, you still see trees, flames, etc. Don Chavez isn’t like us.

He said “You might see a bonfire, but all I see is one fucked cow.”