Ghoul Has a Fit of Anxiety

We were a few hours into the festivities when Ghoul turned to me with a fright. He was paler than normal, which is a bold statement since nothing about his existence is accurate to what our common knowledge can claim to comprehend.

“I gotta say something now—I really do need to say it—please, you’ll listen and not just run away and leave me here, right? You’ll stay and tell me what I need to know?”

His chest heaved with a horrendous squish.

“You don’t look so good,” I said. “Let me open the window to let some of this out.”

“I can go out that window if I need to, yeah? I can do it whenever; please tell me that,” Ghoul stumbled backwards as my face inched closer to his. “Back, fiend!” Hands slapped in my direction and he screamed for aide. It was at this point that I knew what ailed him so.

“You can leave through the window. I wont stop you.”

Ghoul scrambled from the beanbag, flopping to-and-fro until his body gravitated to the opening. He slipped out, chortling relief as he fell to the firm ground two-stories below.

“That’s all I needed to know, man, that’s all I need to know.”

“You just freaked-the-fuck-out, didn’t you?” I asked his detached body.

“I think I had too much.”

I took a moment to ponder the situation afoot: Ghoul smoked what was left of his brains with killer ganja, so does this make him a light weight or is he partaking with the wrong stuff?

“I have an idea,” I declared. “Yeah, this is going to make total sense when I explain it—hold on a minute—let me get my mind there.”

My mind went elsewhere then, and to this day, I still don’t know what happened to that block of time before going out to Ghoul. Was I… sleeping? Eating food, probably. Definitely smoked the rest of our weed. And then I was outside, tired, and pondering how four hours disappeared into the void.

“And how did I get here?”

Ghoul was snoring (he confessed later to have giggled himself into a nap) and cuddled-in with a raccoon. The beast awoke with a yawn, stretched and left on his bike; training wheels still on, bless his little heart. Huh, I thought. Doesn’t look so bad… kinda cute, actually. 

I nudged his legs at first; didn’t  rouse him, so I reached back and arched with a handsome soccer kick. His thigh launched into our neighbor’s backyard with a morbid spin.

“I saw that, man,” Ghoul flailed in hysterics.

“Why did I come down here?”

“I dunno, but go get my leg and sow it back on.”

Somewhere between threading decapitated limbs and splotching open holes across his abdomen like a drywall grunt, I remembered what I needed to say.

“I think what you smoked was too heavy for what your current state can handle. Come on, I know some guys.”

The ride in town was long, and yet, short, at the same time. It was like… I dunno, a tunnel appeared in time and we drove into it, and blam-cakes, we’re on the other side. Ghoul learned so much during that period; how the government viewed medicinal and recreational cannabis on both federal and state levels; enforcement and progression; hypocrisy that is still to this day, blatantly absurd.

“So, when the White House finds it convenient, they will enforce the federal law, but otherwise, they let the states with legislation passed operate without interference?”

“Pretty much, yeah.”

“And people depend on cannabis for more than just getting stoned?”

“I’ve seen documentaries where people needed medicinal weed to live without pain or epileptic events. It’s unbelievable, huh?”

His mind, was blown.

We pulled into Ray and Jay’s.

“Can I go in?”

“Well, yeah, it’s a legit operation.”

He thought deep into what I said.

“I’m getting the fear… best wait in the car. Wait here. That’s right, not going in there, man, and you can’t make me.”

I agreed to that logic and left him be.

Reggae blared from above, pushing the smoke to the floor and I thought to myself Yeah this is where I want to chill for a bit. Revelers from every stereotypical clique mingled in bliss and the cannabis flourished, spilling from mason jars and bowls a plenty.

The celebration was impressive and Ray and Jay were ready to serve.

“I need help!”

I explained the circumstance without the whole oh-yeah-its-for-an-undead-guy bit.

“A mixed bag of Sativas, then?” Ray asked.

“How about a few hybrids?” Jay chimed in.

“All of this sounds delicious. Whatever you think.”

I sauntered with hopeful ambitious and an empty wallet through the doors to where I stopped in dismay.

“Hey,” I said to myself. “I drove here in a car, and now there is no car. So where is my car?”

“Was there ever a car to begin with?” asked a sly old woman wearing a maroon pant-suit.

“I… I don’t know,” I conceded.

“Then you need some of that,” she pointed to the plastic bag with buds the color of robin’s egg. “That shit will help you remember everything.”

She disappeared inside and I never saw her again.

Memories poured into my conscience and I remembered what it was I was meant to do and more importantly, whom I was meant to do it with. It was a fantastic revelation and everything just made so much sense. And I found that purpose three miles down an old logging road, parked atop a ditch with a precarious lean.

“You came,” said Ghoul as he emerged from the bushes. “I knew you would.”

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“Relaxing in that shrub.”

“Oh… you uhh… you wanna try some of this?”

I learned that his spirit animal was a raccoon, and mine, a hawk. I soared through dusk skies on sleek wings while Ghoul climbed trees with his little robber-hands and together we laughed beyond the stars and deep into the universe.

© Copyright John Potts Jr 2016 – 2017. All rights reserved.

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