A cactus. One of the many life forms on Earth that can indeed survive in a super hot desert. Well there are not many of them if you think of it. Just a few fennecs passing by here and there. Some unheard of parasites infecting underground springs. Rocks are also part of this decorum, but one cannot consider them alive although, once, a really nuts guy told me that they stood here as the sort of remnant of an ancient age when Dinosaurs played along with aliens, in a rocky arena—just like our Madison Square Garden. At the moment, I was all: “What the hell man, I’ve not even seen you eat that acid”. I must admit he was right. Rocks of all kinds were around me. Small ones, reminding me of something of a brownish and somehow arranged Stonehenge. Somebody had built all this, I am sure. The fact that they are ranged from the taller to the smallest grain of dust disturbs me so much! Looks like a frigging stairway. Stairway leading right to the sun. Yeah the sun is so hot today. I could literally spin-dry my shirt and get about a pound of sweat.
So this cactus. They say it contains about half their volume in water. I have never bought all this bullshit. If that was true, lots of people would be living in the desert, right? They would farm cactus and chop ‘em and squeeze ‘em and they would survive. And there is absolutely nobody out there. Right to the beginning. I’m lost in this fucking desert and I have nobody to speak with, nobody to drink with, nobody even to die with. I’ve wandered off the beaten trail, and what do I got? Shit! Mama, she told me it wasn’t a good idea. But I was all like: “Yeah, Ma’, I can’t stand it any longer here. I go, and don’t follow me.” She dumped me. Told me she was fucking another bloke. Ah—I so hate ‘em chicks. They can’t stay by their man, they have to go see if men are better and more manly outside. She couldn’t even keep it in. Women are weak. I will find another one.
I am too far now to go home before the night. I can find some miserable place! A gas station or something. I imagine they are quite accustomed to us, the wanderers, the hateful desert stalkers. My eyes see no other than a gray burning soil, with sort of air whirls that confuse my eyes. It makes me think the earth is a mirror. The lead blue sky collapses with the irreparably scattered stones. I saw a Yankee on the moon long ago. The landscape looked just like that, except for the sky: it was darkish—white spots everywhere. Now the sky is blue, with spots too. But these spots appear and vanish just as they appeared, that is quickly. You cannot fix them; as soon as you lock your eye on ‘em they disappear. Must be this damn sun reverberation onto my retinas. Burn baby burn.
Long time no see a cactus! I have to split it in two. I’m so thirsty right now, I could have 20 shots of bourbon and not be tight. Just refreshed. Oh yeah, and now I drool over a cactus… My machete is blunt but inertia should do. What the hell! It’s splashed me up! How’s that even possible? I’ve dreamed of water and here it is. What a comforting sight indeed. Hopefully, it seems there’s a part of the cactus that acted like a cup, and retained some water. Oh! I’m drinking. My stomach reverse-burns, as if I took a shot of bourbon or tequila. But the feeling is tremendously pleasant. My mouth ain’t not dry any more. I can feel saliva coming in my mouth—again. This water had some particular taste, I think. It smelled like fresh chewing gum, and tasted as minty eucalyptus, perhaps the refreshing savor brought by the plant’s living callus.
Long after this, and I’m still awaken. The sun had gone a long time before. When I walk, I hit small stones, and it hurts more and more. My boots are much less a protection than they used to be. These boots they are made for a-walking, Nancy Sinatra said. One more wrong woman, after all. Blood stains my socks. That is the only way I could know that my feet are so chopped. The orange lighter glowing on the scarlet spot made out some uncomfortable color. It looked as if my feet had choked and vomited in the inside of the shoe. Well can’t feel anyt’in’ else. It is as if my whole body wasn’t mine, after all. My hand grasping the other, and I sense nothing. I’m made of plastic. I imagine the noise my arms could make when projected against each other. Clock. Hollow sound, only reverberated by the iron skeleton. Am I a puppet, walking and walking against my own volition?
I’m trying to swap a littl’ the earth. I can’t sleep with a stone twisting my back, no. I imagine they are all kind of mysterious animal here, and most dangerous. The rattlesnake, I heard of it once. You hear a little noise, very not alarming, and so you say to yourself: “Oh no, don’t fear, it is just the wind!” And just then, you’re a dead man. I mean not right after. You feel the venom coming up your leg, melting, mingling with your blood; forming but one sole fluid. Not the life fluid anymore, but death potion patiently bringing the poison right to your heart. I’ve heard only one man has ever survived a rattlesnake’s bite. He was from an anti-venom fabric. He made rattlesnakes spit their venom each hour, and then, one sad day, he got bitten. He was all swollen, and couldn’t move no more. But he gathered his mind, and strength, and made it to the refrigerator, where all the anti-venom syringes were stocked. He used each one of them, and he barely made it. I should be very careful tonight. I don’t even know if I will sleep. Too bad. That’s my punishment for being an asshole.
I can see a snake, but holy shit, it has three heads! It’s coming, crawling to me. I can’t do nothing. I’m petrified. I—I—Crap. The heads go up in the air, ready to bite; god, three bites at a time, that must be painful—and deadly. But the greenish head start to melt into one. What? What’s happening to me. I feel like I’m drifting away. I lost balance. I’m lying on the desert’s soil, but still, the soil is dissolving into water, letting me go. Water closes back right before my eyes. I’m slowly descending the immensity of a boiling, burning, lake. There no more three-headed snakes. There’s plenty of them. There’s none. There are red snakes, blue snakes, yellow, orange, oh! Hell! They vanished again. I’m so unsure of what I can see.
It is as if my own retinas were muting, their texture changing, and my brain all misinterpreting. Blue-red anguish, yellow-green appeasement, purple excitement. Still a clear yellow figure seems to persevere in this tough nightmare. Round shaped, unmistakably ascending the sky. My face started to heat up. Suddenly a shock came to my limbs, some sort of reflex. I felt so light, under the only volition of the wind to bring me where it whistles. I turn back, I see myself, lying appeased on the desert soil. The earth changing colors like a fair attraction rolling rolling and rolling again.
I wake up, again. This time no more joy, no more sadness, no more emotions, in fact. I ain’t broken, but I ain’t healthy either. The pinky, neat salmon sky has replaced the gross diversity of colors I saw last night. The wind has brought me back to my body, I think. This feeling of a cool, mastered body pleases me well. Mades me think about what happened yesterday. It was a kick-ass decision to go. I shouldn’t have. My mother will be so worried. My woman–I don’t know. Actually, I don’t want to hear of that cunt any more. She destroyed me. But I’m not gay. Being gay is a gay thing. It’s like you’re less than a woman. You’re weak, you’re twisted… She broke something in me the bitch.
I will find another one. They move so easily, you understand what they think at once. One night stand? You read it in their glance they throw you. I used to be good at this nasty game. Now I don’t know. Nancy, she was somebody, y’know. I will shoot this man she slept with. He has no honor, I tell you. But, I’m not the asshole. Nobody’s coming to help me. I’m all alone on this dry land.
The sun is climbing up the sky. The pinkish shade that glowed before on the desert soil begins to fade away. I can see that I moved during my delirium, I don’t recognize the exact place I stopped to. The stones are sharper here maybe, and placed differently. Why was I lunatic last night? Why did I see such vivid colors? At a time, I heard a story, from a guy I saw at school or in the street or I don’t know where. It said that some cactus were no cactus actually, but much more of some sort of Acid. Acid is made for Hippies, not me. Them hippies high on marijuana, everybody expect them to see things. Not me, it can’t happen to me. I’m so not a hippie.
But this experiment has broke something in me, yep. I don’t know anything any more. Do I dream right now? Am I awake, I don’t know. The world is a stranger, reality is unreal. Oh! Finally I can see some sort of gas station! I don’t understand: there ain’t a road here, in my memories anyway. Perhaps is it a little trail. Well better take a look, I’m still so thirsthy. The more I walk down the station, the more my legs are trembling. The more I walk, the more I feel myself drifting away. I’m so very tired, it ain’t me any more. This stupid trip has destroyed me.
I poke the door, it creaks. What kind of a gas station is that? Through the smoke sucked outside of the room I flow. Behind the counter is a mid-fifties scarcely bearded man. He seems completely out in the blue. That may have been caused by the innumerable empty bottles around him. Is he the tenant? “Wha’re ya dooin’ ‘ere?” I answer “Thirsty for sure man!”, not quite reassured of this uncanny appearing. He draws a glass back, a bottle of Jack, and poured it in the tiny container.
“Get it straight” he says.
“Oh man, I’m thirsty for water, I have an immense headache…”
“Why wan’t ya drink wha’ a old man gives?” His voice was as creaking as the door.
“I’m already high, I think”
“Oh ya’re one of these.”
“What?”
“One of these Junkie, as they say.”
“How can you?” I dropped, unnerved.
“You oughta not to talk ta me like thus, young man.”
I took the glass and smashed it on the table. The alcohol was spilled everywhere. The glass was just a ruin, scattered in the fields of history. I head for the door. I smash it as well.
What a jerk is that old degenerate! I walk with a steady pace away of that dark ranch. Oh man! He’s gone out with a rifle! He shoots at me! He missed already two shots. I run the fastest I could. GODDAMN! In the leg. I fall miserably on the soil. The blood reddens the brown earth. I might know what women feel when they give birth. But here it’s ten time worse! I can’t walk anymore. The man is running after me. I try to crawl, but this is a failure. It aches too much. I bend to see how bad is my foot. Fuck! It’s completely dismembered. The bastard! He is just there aiming at me: “You are one ugly piece of junk!”
I pulled the trigga’.
