snow angelThe snow stopped falling completely by three in the afternoon. Around noon it had started to taper off. Their acid started coming on about then. Murph noticed things were getting slightly distorted, simple things like when he reached for the Bambu he misjudged where they were, and when he pulled a paper from the pack, the paper seemed to be extraordinarily long. After what seemed like an eternity, he finally managed to get some pot into the paper, but his fingers were clumsy and it almost fell. The paper turned golden and did wavy lines in his hand. “Look at the paper dance,” he said out loud. He was tremendously pleased with the dancing yellow paper and wholly engrossed in watching it. Then he saw some of the weed looking at him, laughing at him, so he rolled those little buggers up in the paper and licked the edge to seal it.

“Not your best piece of work,” Annabelle said. She took the what-looked-like-it-was-his-first-ever-joint-rolled and lit it. It smoked, but it was loose and it popped once. Murph said he’d roll another one when they finished it, and he did though Annabelle left him. It seemed like it took every ounce of concentration he could raise up.

“I need some wine,” he said. He went into the kitchen and he found Annabelle there. She’d already poured two glasses from the white wine she had in her frig. They were saving the last bottle Murph had brought for the night when they we’re coming down.

Annabelle was eating a brownie. Standing there in the kitchen Annabelle was eating a hash brownie, smoking a joint and drinking wine, all at once. Then as soon as they were finished smoking the joint, she pulled out two Quaaludes from Murph’s pills which were now all together in the one pill bottle he’d brought. She swallowed them down with a big sip of wine. Murph watched her, then he took a Quaalude for himself.

The full eerie buzz of the acid was upon him. He felt frenetic in a sense, like he was electrically charged and there was charge all around him. He was familiar with the sensation, the physicalness of the acid, and he was also familiar with the sensation that all his brain cells were alive and alert but also droopy-drowsy high. He felt as if he could follow everything and anything all at once. He put some Moody Blues on the stereo and sat down to listen to them. He sat watching the living room wall dissolve into trickles of caramel and chocolate like it was a modern art canvas.

He had just put his feet up on the coffee table when Annabelle danced in completely naked except for her rubber snow boots. She had made up her face with dark eye makeup and much more than thick red lipstick. To Murph she looked like a circus clown and he clapped happily. She danced for him, not lasciviously at all, just to the music. Beyond her was the liquid canvas-wall dripping caramel and chocolate.

“Snow angels,” Annabelle called out and she ran out the front door.

“Shoot,” Murph said. He got up and went after her, found her flat on her back in the snow waving her arms. He pulled her up and led her inside.

“Party pooper.”
“Put some clothes on and I’ll go out with you.”
“Let’s shave my pubes,” Annabelle said.
“You crazy? Not in this condition.”
“Let’s shave your pubes,” she said.
“Let’s get you dried off and dressed and listen to the music.”
“Let’s take a shower.”

Annabelle ran to the bathroom, turned on the water and stepped into the tub boots and all. Reluctantly, Murph went after her. When he was finally undressed, he stepped into the tub. Annabelle had her razor in her hand and had soaped herself there. Murph watched her shave, give herself a baldy. He laughed. He thought it hilarious when her lips there spoke to him. “Enter here,” they said. “Yeah right,” Murph said. “It can talk, you know,” Annabelle said. “If you only knew what it could say.”

Murph dressed while Annabelle lingered in the bathroom. Back in the living room, he rolled another doobie and waited. When Annabelle came out, after what seemed like a good amount of time, she was still naked. She had painted a target on her privates with an arrow leading to the goodies.

“You like?”
“I like.”

“Snow angels,” Annabelle said. She got up, flew out the door and threw herself in the snow to make a snow angel.


Note: The State of Massachusetts is soon voting on whether or not to legalize Marijuana. Marijuana is a gateway drug and should not be legalized. Decriminalized yes. Used medicinally, yes. Annabelle and Murph are depictions of real people with real experiences. They illustrate clearly why the drug should not be legalized. In AA they say: man takes a drink, drink takes a drink, drink takes the man. Need anymore be said?