The Art of the Hustle (Complete)

Chapter Four

"Go, dude, go!" Will screamed out. 

He did not have to tell me twice, I quickly grabbed my skateboard and took off. We raced back to Will's house. I arrived first. Will showed up a moment later and did not show any fear. He seemed more exhilarated than scared. 

"Dude, are you okay?" he asked, as he gasped for breath. 

"Yeah," I responded quickly.  

Will started laughing and instructed me to go around to the front of the house. "Come on let's go over here, we're making too much noise." 

I would have been much happier to be safely inside because we were only about four blocks away from where the incident took place. It was doubtful they would ever find us, but I still remained cautious, looking over my shoulder every ten seconds. 

We took a seat on the curb in front of Will's place. I gazed up at the stars as Will reached into his pocket and took out a pack of cigarettes.  

"Dude, that was awesome!" Will said. "I kicked him too, did you see that?"  

"You kicked him?" 

"Yeah, buddy was down on all fours and I kicked him in the head as hard as I could." Will mumbled proudly with an unlit cigarette dangling from his mouth. He patted his jean pockets then his shirt pockets. He eventually found what he was looking for. He took out his lighter, lit up his cigarette, and took a huge drag. "Forget those guys!" he said, as he exhaled a huge cloud of smoke. 

We waited until Will finished his cigarette before we went inside. Bailey had already gone to bed by the time we got home and would not get to hear our story. I doubted if she would ever hear it; there didn't seem to be much point in telling her. 

It was a little past midnight and we were both hungry. We each filled up a big glass of juice and grabbed some chips before heading into the living room. Will threw another log in the fireplace as we prepared to stay up for the next while and watch some TV. 

"Hey, have you ever done shrooms?" Will asked, not even trying to conceal his excitement. I looked over at him, but didn't say anything. I didn't have to; it was obvious I had not. Will had the same expression on his face that a kid gets when they have just come up with a really brilliant idea that will most likely get them hurt or into trouble. Before I could even reply, Will jumped out of his chair and went to his little stash spot he had in one of his movie cases. I stayed put, but I stretched out comfortably on the large sofa. 

"Dude, where'd you get those?" I asked the first question that came to my mind, exposing my lack of experience in these types of situations. 

"I got them from Rasta Mark - a buddy from work," he said, dismissing the seemingly irrelevant question. "Okay, here's what you do," Will said, as he was intently focused and clearly enjoying himself. "Take this," he handed me a small dried up flattened mushroom.  

"What do you want me to do with this?" I asked. 

"Cut it up into small pieces, then eat it." 

I was not much into doing drugs, and I didn't even eat normal mushrooms, but I was willing to let go of some of my inhibitions. I looked down at the pile of dried up mushroom bits in my hand and thought to myself, a man's gotta do what a man's gotta do. I quickly swallowed them and chased them down with a big gulp of juice. Will did the same. 

"Okay, now what?" I asked naively. 

"Now we wait."  

I didn't really feel much at first. We both just sat there staring at the fire. Neither one of us said anything for a while. 

"I don't think mine are working," I said, finally breaking the silence. 

"Shhhh, just wait," Will said softly. 

The room went back to being quiet. The only noise was from the crackling fire in the fireplace. As I stared at the flames I became increasingly more fascinated with them. The drug amplified my natural inquisitiveness and I began to trip out. All the ordinary daily distractions were gone; the drug nullified anything that would even remotely interrupt my thought process. I was in the zone. At that moment, I was an uninhibited and purely inquisitive mind. The amount of focus I had was incredible. It was a philosopher's drug.  

"Dude, you know what's weird?" I asked. "What is fire?" I paused for a moment to let the question marinate. Will did not say anything. "If you think about it," I began again "fire can never be analyzed under a microscope. It never sits still, it's always changing, so how do we really know what it is?" 

I stayed intently focused on the flames. "You know what I think?" I asked rhetorically. "I think fire is the true reality. The normal everyday stuff we perceive is all an illusion, a veil that covers the true reality. When we strike a match or ignite a flame, that spark creates a force so hot it tears the artificial fabric, and reveals the real reality, the 'flame-reality'. Wherever there is fire, for that moment, at that time, the veil is lifted. Each dance of a flame forces out the fake reality in the same precise spot as the flame so it looks seamless, and when the flame goes out, the veil is restored, once again concealing the truth. I can see it now, it all makes sense."  

I looked over at Will as if I had just unraveled the biggest mystery of the universe and I wanted to make sure he witnessed it. Will was completely passed out. 

I finished my juice, peeled myself off the couch, and went to bed.