Acid Tongued

Daddy Gave Me a Meth Pipe

Daddy gave me a meth pipe. It was really pretty. The colors, man, the colors were so specially rainbowy, you know like the land of Oz and shit. You know if you listen to Dark Side of the Moon, smoke some dope, and watch the movie The Wizard of Oz, the music seems to, I dunno, flow, baby, flow with the movie? Well, that pipe stayed in my room all the time. I would have friends over and we would get really high on meth, and talk about all kinds of shit. My dad was getting really religious at the time. Everyone called him Mr. Cook. Maybe because he baked a mean bunch of brownies, but I know why really. He cooked up the best meth in the fuckin’ world, dude. That shit, tasted and smelled like rotten potatoes, or some shit. I guess I just can’t explain it really, but when you took that first hit. Man, it fucked you to the ceiling, dude. He would read us some of the Book Of Revelations, talkin all crazy and shit about the angels with four eyes, or ten faces or some shit. Really weird. Mamma had already been dead now for at least, um, maybe like twenty years now. I don’t know, I’m twenty five now. But they all said that Daddy killed her. I don’t blame him; he said that she was all crazy and shit and messin up his life with her blamin’ him for spendin all her money on drugs. Drugs are fun, man. Come on, dude. That pipe would rip your head off, and make your ticker go BEAT BEAT BEAT! And you’d feel so gooood about yourself. Almost so good that I did some homework onetime. Did some report on Martin Sheen. Did you know that he’s one hell of an artist too? He can play the guitar, or maybe that is Willie Nelson. Man, those days are still a blur. Shit, they still are! I want to be a cook like my daddy someday. He’s the best. I want to toot on that pipe some more. Let’s go down to the basement and do some dust. The shit smells so bad. That means it’s good. But it is summer, and Mr. Fordy is out back weedin dem flowers and such. He’ll smell it. He always did whenever Dad used to smoke meth out behind the bushes. Guess he and Mr. Fordy used to do it together, but now, Fordy is in the PTA or some shit, has a young kids, all good and shit. But, let me hear a Praise Jesus! For He is a comin down the road like woody the woodpecker. Speaking of peckers you should see mine! Big as this pipe. That reminds me, I better call up my friend Joe Brigandi, who is probably playin with his Pipe tryin to suck it himself and shit. He gotta get over here and hit this glass piece my Daddy gave me last summer. Then we’ll watch the Wizard of Oz and smoke some dube. Damn, I’m losin weight though. Guess I always have been skinny, but now I don’t weigh more than a hundred and one pounds. And I’m six three. Oh, hell, the world is goin’ up in a plum of smoke…so says the Book that Daddy reads me. Praise the Lord!