The mother. Fucking. Beach. Great god damn success. You’ve been trying to get here for… Well, you know, basically since winter started. Life has been terrible without your beloved drugs, but it doesn’t have to be terrible any longer. It is your day. You’ve made it to the beach, dragging yourself through the excruciating agony that has all but doubled you over with inability to do anything, and now you are here. Nothing else matters. Even thoughts of Snowflake, Child #1 and Child #2 are far from your head. All you can think about are your plants, those beloved locoweed vines that snake across the sandy, murky junction between here and what used to be that stupid swamp. God you hated that swamp. Nothing good ever came of it… but that doesn’t even matter now. With one final step, your bones feeling like they are shattering beneath you, you fall into a patch of your vines and begin greedily downing them.

You don’t know for how long you lay there, ingesting sweet flower after sweet flower, letting green juices roll down your mouth and letting your stomach grow full with the tasty treats. You don’t know how long your head swims or for what length of time it takes for your muscles to grow weak. You can’t say if you got here at daybreak or noon or dusk, or what time it is now. All you can say is that you are happy, and pain free, and you don’t have to shoot yourself with your drug magic every 30 seconds to manage it. Even the merhorse on the rock in the distance looks happy as she tosses her head at you.

Up in the sky, a horse pulls a flaming wagon. You thought for sure that was where the sun went, but you’re not in any mood to question these things. Regardless, you kind of like wagon horse better. There’s something majestic about the idea of pulling the cart the illuminates the world that even you, cynic though you are, can appreciate. You’ll have to remember to bring Child #1 here someday. Except… maybe not. Because she might try to explode the chariot out of the sky and plunge the world into eternal darkness. As you heard it, that already happened once. You don’t really think it needs to happen again.

So it is that you lay on the ground, limbs splayed wildly, body strewn out like you’ve no cares in the world. And right now, you don’t. Forget that there are murders going on everywhere, forget that you’ve got a mate and children, forget that you’ve got warriors to manage. You are going to lay here and enjoy being high, and that is final!


@[Gaucho]