Of Time and Candy Lime
A tropical resort, poolside. An artificial waterfall feeds the pool. Apparently, the pool is clothing optional: I’m watching a golden-haired nymph float by on an inflatable lily pad, her sunglasses reflecting the annular eclipse … tattooed natives play bongos under the palm trees …
Tom Cruise walks up grinning, takes a baggie of weed out of his pocket, sits down next to me and holds the baggie open for my inspection. But it’s not weed—looks like sugar-coated candy lime slices. “This will put you in the right place,” he says.
I’m doubtful, but follow him into the hotel. Walking up a crooked stairwell, I suddenly feel strange and realize I’m already high, even though I haven’t ingested anything yet ...
The luxury suite is fluorescent green—green ceiling, green floor, green furniture, and the walls covered in glimmering green stones, thousands of them, and inside each stone a moving picture, each one a different jungle scene … but like no jungle I’ve ever seen, the animals are strange and freakish: brightly-colored winged serpents, lizard-monkeys swinging in the trees, a paisley pig unrolling his feathery snout while the female pigs grunt in excitement … and a spotted cat-woman with a diamond-toothed smile lying on the sofa smoking from a hookah …
My head feels like a helium balloon floating several feet above my body … Panic sets in … What’s happening to me?
“It’s the drug,” says the cat-woman, exhaling green smoke. “It takes effect before you take it. You take it to come down.”
Tom holds out one of the candy lime slices.
“No,” I say, “I’m not taking anything I don’t know what it is.”
“But you’ve already taken it,” says the cat-woman, “or will take it. You have no choice.”
“Of course I have a choice.”
“Choice is a fiction,” she purrs. “Did you have a choice when you were born? Will you have a choice when you die?”
I turn towards the door. It begins to rain …
Tom Cruise walks up grinning, takes a baggie of weed out of his pocket, sits down next to me and holds the baggie open for my inspection. But it’s not weed—looks like sugar-coated candy lime slices. “This will put you in the right place,” he says.
I’m doubtful, but follow him into the hotel. Walking up a crooked stairwell, I suddenly feel strange and realize I’m already high, even though I haven’t ingested anything yet ...
The luxury suite is fluorescent green—green ceiling, green floor, green furniture, and the walls covered in glimmering green stones, thousands of them, and inside each stone a moving picture, each one a different jungle scene … but like no jungle I’ve ever seen, the animals are strange and freakish: brightly-colored winged serpents, lizard-monkeys swinging in the trees, a paisley pig unrolling his feathery snout while the female pigs grunt in excitement … and a spotted cat-woman with a diamond-toothed smile lying on the sofa smoking from a hookah …
My head feels like a helium balloon floating several feet above my body … Panic sets in … What’s happening to me?
“It’s the drug,” says the cat-woman, exhaling green smoke. “It takes effect before you take it. You take it to come down.”
Tom holds out one of the candy lime slices.
“No,” I say, “I’m not taking anything I don’t know what it is.”
“But you’ve already taken it,” says the cat-woman, “or will take it. You have no choice.”
“Of course I have a choice.”
“Choice is a fiction,” she purrs. “Did you have a choice when you were born? Will you have a choice when you die?”
I turn towards the door. It begins to rain …
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