To Touch the Crown

By Paiboon Sunthonchart

To Touch the Crown is a deeply spiritual fiction story, based on a truth: non-fiction times the earth was in. The road begins into a drive entering the darker side of life and the uprising and commercializing of the Seattle rave scene (years 1998-2002) The main story begin with Jameson (James) who grew up somewhat of a leader, living for love, but money seemed to be blinding him from the only way to receive what hed never had. He ventures in search of a girl he found in his senior prom, where high-school is the farthest thing from the groove. James enters the dark-world where raving is the freedom.
Brian was following the footsteps of his best friend Jameson, drifting along under the wings of money, lost in the silhouette of status. He was clueless about life and the future road in front him, good times after work seemed to be the only thing that made life worth living. A date with Ashley comes, that would change his life forever.
Jason wakes up in world hes never been, under a new face, not knowing who he is. His identification shows his face, one that hes never seen before, under a name hes never heard of We step into the shell of these characters feeling what they feel, intertwining in their thoughts and emotions as youths become young adults trying to find themselves, and their meaning. They face decisions that can alter the lives of many, choices that can never be changed when chosen; choices where the only choice, is to make the choice.
In their search for love, they see the worse the world has to offer, and the light of heavens above in a find for truth and reason

This book also contains a non-fiction news excerpt for world salvation and ending The Sorcery War.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Sep 27, 2014
• ISBN: 9781499048438

Book preview

CHAPTER 2

My stop with Marcus was next on my agenda. Meeting Marcus for the early morning drop was the usual once a week thing for me. Marcus also went to our school when he decided to show up hardly being ever since his wake up call was usually about the same time as the final bell of school. Marcus is one cool Asian/Mexican, but when I think about ‘his cool’, he was one wearing the clothes of a thief and the gun of a killer sat in his bedroom and walked on the street with him, he was also a spirit of a child. Marcus was Vietnamese with Mexican mother.

Marcus hopped into the front seat of my car just around the corner from one of his parent’s houses in Mukilteo, Washington. There was never anyone living in this white-house, only a bed and couch sat in the master bedroom facing a television, and a refrigerator and stove in the kitchen.… Yo Marcus what’s up bro?

Nothing much just chilling, he said, handing me an envelope full of my cash… Marcus had a thick spicy musk coming off of him really catching my sense of smell, that mixed with my marijuana gave my car the aroma a cop would love to catch, the scent of two pounds of weed and two dealers with cash.

You chillin like crazy? I asked jokingly.

Dog, you know me, I’m chilling like a loco villain, he said smiling talking trash about himself, but I should’ve known better to make someone talk about himself, it is just as bad as asking someone to tell you their thoughts. Yo check this new tip out, what do you know about cocaine?

I know its bad stuff… is the money all here? I asked looking into the envelope.

48 hundie all there.

Cool, I knew I didn’t have to ask with Marcus, he was always straight up. Its just mandatory for the business to ask, because in this world, you just never know. With drugs, its all about money, both sides want it, so there isn’t a need for any negative drama.

Hey, my uncle dropped by, and left me with ten kilo’s of pure cocaine.

I looked up from my money and only a second passed by when looking into his eyes, and seeing the life gleaming of an opportunity in his eye from the hopes of making money; I could read that he wasn’t anything other than serious…

Marcus’s parents were married strictly for business so the Mexican’s and Asian’s could have a family connection. Marcus’s mother’s family were into serious money down south. His father was brothers with some main men in Vietnam that also had the lockdown on the Canadian underground scene. James guessed they ran Vancouver along with many other cities throughout Canada. The Asian’s knew south of the border was home of the cocoa leaf, and down south knew where quantity of heroin could be found: west of the Pacific. It would mainly get all distributed back into the U.S. and Canada.

James had found out the story about Marcus’s two families one drunken night, when Marcus didn’t know what he was saying, he just started speaking about his family, and their living away from the light… The beginning of that drunken night, James had pulled up to their house almost as big as a mansion but a size smaller with a parking lot filled of luxury cars and limousines.

Walking through the house James knew that he was inside the housing of big time. He was dropping off a pound of marijuana, and in high-school if you have a pound of marijuana, the usual dealer will have a flocking to the dark of being a drug dealer, but at Marcus’s house, James knew, even with his 30 pounds of marijuana being his normal pick-up, that he was small time and that these were millionaires.

Marcus walked him through the house, and James kept his eyes away from most contact, just walking in the normal goodness of a good kid feeling their spirits on his passing. Marcus sat down on his brown couch on dark brown carpet, in his bedroom with posters on all the dark blue walls around them, and James on a blue chair that matched the other chair on Marcus’s left side, there was a big screen T.V. in front of Marcus, with a bed in the corner not too far from one of the two windows. James pulled out the pound of marijuana out of his backpack, then set it on the coffee table in front of them next to three glasses. James had local super-chronic (incredible marijuana), light green and a lot of crystals making the buds sticky but still fluffy and dry, so the bags were big when it came to selling, making the customers happy.

There was also a bottle of rum on the table, which Marcus quickly filled up half-full in two out of the three glasses on the table. The bottom of Marcus’s table had a fridge built into the table, and Marcus pulled out two cola’s and they started drinking. After two half glasses of rum, and a joint, with Marcus smoking joint number two in a smoke filled room with smoke hovering in their faces, Marcus had began to say…

…those are all big time drug dealers, from Vietnam to Canada, and Mexico, none of them will start out a deal unless it’s a million dollar deal or more. Cocaine and heroin…

I didn’t know what to say, with Marcus telling me the business of his family. I was drunk, but able to handle my alcohol to where I was able to understand what he was telling me…

If you can get eight hundred pounds of marijuana to sell, let me know, then you can step to their table, said Marcus. Marcus’s cell phone rang, and he passed me the joint. I’ll be down there in a minute, Marcus said on his cell phone.

Marcus looked at me, and said, you cool to walk through the house.

Yeah.

We walked down the stairs, then through the hall, when I saw through the kitchen opening, clear-black shadows, demons, almost human like, but one could see they were spirits, and through the shadows, were Marcus’s family drinking and partying. In the outer of the kitchen toward a dining area, my eyes became alert in a scared feeling of calmness.

What are you doing? Come on lets go. Marcus said, using his words to have me follow.

I followed, then saw another group of blackened-ghost-like shadows standing next to the walls of the living room, where another group of Marcus’s family was gathered in their party; drinking and talking. I was brought to another stop, when the family looked up at me…

I felt a lot of evil at the gathering of those two cartels, the evil of wretched, the evil of a murderer… Where do those demons come from?

Marcus wasn’t in the same world of business as them, he was only playing in the field of grass, selling marijuana, but I’m sure his family had his path planned out for him. I couldn’t see myself dabbling in powder, there was too much harm with those types of drugs.

The weed is behind the paper grocery bag behind the seat, I said.

Marcus reached behind the seat and grabbed the paper bag… Cool, my uncle says that there should be enough for over one hundred grand, at least, he said with the ‘st’ sounding like the hiss of a snake, then looked into the bag at the marijuana.

Marcus grabbed a bud out of one of the four half pound plastic zipped up bags, then loaded the bowl into his glass pipe. His pipe appeared to be new, I’ve never seen it before. I saw no trace of resin showing through, clear as a cloudy day with no clouds and the sun raining down, shining blue sky everywhere. Is that a new pipe?

Yes, he looked at the marijuana in his pipe. I guess the market is open up here for cocaine.

Yeah, I wouldn’t know. Not my gig.

Here you take greens off of the new pipe.

I can’t take greens off of your new pipe.

Naw dog its all you.

No way dude. I’m not taking greens off of your new pipe.

Are you sure?

Very sure bro, only a man without etiquette would take greens off another man’s new pipe. Its always an honor to take greens off of a new glass pipe, you get the pure taste of the bud.

I hear that, he smiled, then pulled out a lighter from his pocket.

Thanks though.

Anytime, he said, then took the first hit off of his new pipe. He just about hacked up a lung from the potency of the THC crystals piercing the inner layer of his lungs… I wonder what that looks like?

Good weed isn’t it?

The bomb man. Here bro, he said handing me the pipe.

No its cool, take another hit and warm up your new pipe some more.

His eyes were slanted and he watched smoke go through his pipe one more time… he then just about coughed out his other lung. His hand reached into his pocket and pulled out a bottle of juice to drink, to help ease the burn from the bud. Damn dude, your stuff always messes stuff up.

Better, or I wouldn’t sell it.

But think about it… a hundred grand, he said handing me his pipe, with the bud ready to be smoked.

I already did, it sounds like a lot of work. It took me over three years to save up the two hundred and eighty grand I have off of selling weed, from starting up selling nickel bags to selling pounds, everywhere I could. I took a hit off of the pipe with another thought… work is money, that’s what we do.

I don’t know anyone, I said handing him the pipe. But if I hear anything I’ll let you know.

Cool, you do that, he said smiling. We’ll make some big cash… he said then took a hit off of the weed. Keep an open eye and ear… its pure best, he said then handed me the pipe… entering my mind… dreams of snakes… and the priest… blackness in my dreams… those cold sweat mornings, waking up with the emptiest feelings worse than death. They say money doesn’t know good or evil, but we all know people do… I didn’t know anyone who wanted cocaine, so I didn’t care too much… chills were in my body just thinking about cocaine.

After this weed is done, I have to get to school. I took a hit off of the pipe. You going to school? I asked while breathing out a cloud of smoke.

"No, I’m just going to sit around and get high, and play video games or something, then go to bed and get up later.

Ha, you crazy slacker, I said smiling.

I know, ha, he laughed.

Me too, I said, even though I was pulling a 3.4 GPA in school.

We finished, the weed, and he put his pipe away, then he said, I’m out of here. Peace

Peace.

CHAPTER 3

At school a lot of James’s free thoughts had cocaine in them, and the many dreams he had with vicious-viceroy in them, like last night’s dream with death and snakes haunting him like they have often over his years… usually waking him up, dissolution sweating cubes of ice like laying alive in a buried coffin…

…The dreams villainous comes very anthem-vilify viscid-vivid, virulent, all having the same similarity to each other… He usually appears out of his sleep sitting in a room at a table, a single light shining down from above unto the table where bricks of evil play the centerpiece. There’s always that same cobra coiled up hissing with its forked tongue of enmity, its hatred to all life… there were always snakes in my dreams… there were always snakes in my dreams… there were always demons in my dreams…

…What was the purpose of those dreams…Why do I see demons and shadows…

I sat in class waiting for the final bell to ring looking at the clock. It always seems like when you look at the clock when you are waiting for the bell of the school to end a new beginning, time just seems to freeze, the seconds turn into minutes, and the minutes just never seem to come, a century could pass by in the final minutes of school. I looked around the classroom to see everyone pretty much doing the same thing, we were all done with our work waiting for life to start again in these final moments of class. But then I gave a closer look and felt like I was in some teen comedy from the 1980’s…

…the kids seemed frozen by the magnetic force of a held up anticipation, drawing their eyes to the clock, waiting for the ring to set them free. One girl had gum in her mouth that wasn’t even being chewed, hanging on her jaw in her open mouth. I almost ‘geeked’ at this portrait the photographer had me in, severe regale in my funny bone. Finally the bell rang for the school-day to end, and waiting outside by the door was Ryan smiling…

…Dude you hear about Vic? Ryan asked

No but I saw him in the back of the cop car.

He beat some dude up, so the principle called the cops on him, and the cops found weed on him.

That’s crazy, I said walking with a best friend through the halls of the entire school. We had to walk through one end of school to get to the other end, where the parking lot was.

Let’s go smoke, you down?

Yeah.

It always makes me happy to see Ryan at the end of the school day with his short sandy-blonde hair, blue eyes, and great build, since he was on the school soccer team and lifted weights. Ryan is always positive, a big softy, way cool to hang out with. He was always good for a laugh, probably the most out of all my friends. I remember this one time when we were drinking, we dared Ryan to eat a bar of butter in one bite… and he did it. He puked up a very sick thing afterwards, but he did it. Ryan is another best friend of mine, the youngest one of our group, who is in the same grade as the rest of ‘The Knights‘. The Cal-Zone or Rydog by name is what we called him… he has more heart than any kid I know…

We started calling ourselves ‘The Knights’ because our high-school mascot is the knight; silver and purple are the school colors, but Ryan was the only one wearing them. The birth of the name came one drunken night while smoking about an ounce of weed: we sat at a little round table in my basement watching a movie on a king named Arthur, and Brian spouted out that we were ‘The Knights’… it had a nice ring to it, so it stuck.

When it came to my boys, I love them more than myself. I often wondered what we’d be like when we got older, I wondered if the rest crew thought that also. I wondered if we’d still be together… I hoped we would. I don’t know where I’d be without them… probably alone.

At school we weren’t them with their smudge comments who walk around thinking they are better than everyone. Nor were we the bullies with their smutty remarks toward the lonely girl who isn’t pretty in their eyes, but something spectacular waiting to be born in the eyes of understanding. Nor were we the bully’s who were most filled with testosterone and lacking knowledge of anything but their workouts and sports, knocking books out of the brainy kids hands just for being smart: they would soon learn, cause everyone does…

No one played bully when we were around and there were no attitudes thrown our way. We were the ones looking out for those over-achieving with more heart than anyone of us on the ladder of names at school. Those were the kids who would eventually be at the top, and we’d be walking up the down escalators at their malls.

I was already working for those kids who are on the smarter scale: if I didn’t sell them my weed, then someone else would sell them my weed, cause my weed was everywhere, hitting the major of people who wanted to get high off marijuana. I took money from whoever wanted to buy a bag of weed when I was ‘nickel-diming pounds’ from the corner of my classroom. My boys, we are the pot smoking, go to school high, in it for good times, money and each other, and one day that special girl to save me and show me what life was really about.

A lot of people thought I had quit dealing after a year, at least that is what I leaked out to the schools when I moved up to selling pounds, with weed handed down to my boys, then passed to whoever and their friends. We were known, but did anyone really know us? I wanted people to think I was done and out of the business, cause in drugs its never good to have your name floating around with drugs of any sorts… At first you want to have all the clients you can have, and even more. But once you get your name and the weight starts floating around, you try to become a shadow that is never seen, not even under the sun, with your friends selling your drugs. In the culture of drugs, names are to be kept secret among the public, we probably shouldn’t even use names, because all we need is numbers and a high.

Anonymous I had become, but still heavily in dealing more so than I have ever been before, from small bagging it to big pounding it. I was at the top among my peers with many kids under me, and not only in my school, but in every surrounding school in the area. My marijuana took over with no worries, and I had the numbers to back it up… invisible but respected.

When you get up there and the money starts flowing, the multiple pounds are being dropped off, you realize life isn’t a game. Life’s meant to be lived, not played. If you’re playing an evil game, there’s always a chance you can lose, and go to hell… but if you’re living, then you’re just living and there’s nothing to lose. Who wants to play with demons to steal peace and create hate in the I win you lose game?… Not me, I’ll just make money instead, I call that living… it’s better than dying in hate.

The 1990’s seemed like a time of experimenting, a period of trying to find ones-self. Everyone wanted to try something new and escape whatever it was they wanted to escape. Maybe they just wanted a new reality, or lose the one they were in. Especially here in the Seattle area: weed and soul drugs were all over being fed to kids, so an escape was easily found.

The times went along with the music adding to the influence of kid’s minds, especially with gangster rap and the grunge-alternative scene, both against the government-evil: sorcery dictatorship. The era of the 1990’s seemed to have everyone posing against evil. I always found it kind of disappointing to see a normal suburban kid act like he’s mafia with the silver spoon president’s gang, the sorcerer rapist hiding behind a lie: computer human army sorcerers under the president, sending flu’s, cancers and sorcery sicknesses to public, attacking and raping public, and murdering public who doesn’t side with their sorcery, why don’t the sorcerers just choose salvation.

This kid traded me a nug of some purple weed, let’s roll it up and get ‘spliffed out’, Ryan said.

Way cool, my day just shined, I replied with a big smile on my face. There is nothing better than a nice joint of purple after a fast day of swimming in work at school. Here’s some papers, you roll I’ll drive. I said handing him the rolling-papers still engaged in our walk through the kids in the halls of the school… the halls at school are always a mad house when school is over; everyone is trying to find their fastest way out of here, headed within that one direction that headed every which way. Did any of these kids actually know where they were going? At times I felt like an ant in an ant farm, trapped, but always moving inside of ‘the living morose labyrinths’, even out of school.

We usually ran a speed walking behind the scene to the parking lot to try and beat the traffic, since there was only one exit for the parking lot, but we were always unsuccessful. Today there wasn’t any running though. I figure that there’s no reason to be in a hurry, besides we usually just end up sitting in traffic behind cars burning fumes waiting to leave the parking lot. I knew the money would still be there anyway, so I could either walk or rush to be in the same place I’d be if I relaxed, and took the time that would be the same… I like school, I took advantage of the mind sharpening tool, but my future would always be drugs.

Dude there’s that new chick? he said pointing to this head that had bold-vibrant red hair, walking about twenty feet in front of us. I have her in BIO, her names Treena, she’s way hot.

Yeah she is, I’ve seen her a few times. How long has she been here?… I knew she wasn’t my one, never get with your buddies girl.

No more than two weeks.

You dig her?

Yeah, I do.

Well go talk to her. It looks like she’s stopping at her locker.

Ryan stopped in our walk, making me stop with him in his pause to do a quick think. I’m down, he said then made his way to her. My eyes were watching from a distance but also looked around… Wow, there are some beautiful girls in this school. I wondered if my girl was here, somewhere, and I just haven’t seen her yet? It has only been a few weeks since the start of school, and I know haven’t seen everybody. I looked back and Ryan was coming back, over his shoulder I could see the guys in letterman’s coats, three of them white skinned, and one black, two with blonde hair, and one with black hair, had approached the girl he was suppose to talk to, and instead, they thought it was their turn.

I’ll just talk to her some other time, Ryan said after coming back. A smiling squint hit my eyes.

Why because of those jocks? Those witches, they don’t have nothing on you, we both, briefly looked toward her. I’ll go and talk to her for you. So I went over there and cut right in front of the four jocks, without even acknowledging them. I stood face to face with her, in between her and the jocks.

Hi what’s your name, I asked.

It’s Treena, she said with a smile on her face, like I have saved her from a meaningless waste of time. These jocks were known witch-snobs at school, and she knew the jocks were only after one thing. Then I felt a hand grab my shoulder and turn me around.

Who the fuck are you? One of the blonde jocks said to me, trying to be the tough guy.

My instincts took over, with both hands I threw him to the ground, and with the quickness Ryan was by my side ready to take on the four guys. The black guy jumped in and tried to push me but failed, letting me spin him, pushing him in a slam into the locker. I pinned him there with my forearm on his throat, wanting to smash his face in with my fist. Witch!

The guy I pushed down got up and said, you want to go!

A crowd of kids circled around us in the hallway: spectators looking for some excitement, girls and guys. I looked at Ryan and without even thinking I threw a blow with my right hand, smashing in the blonde kids nose. I could feel the crunch of his nose breaking with the impact of my punch, he fell back, landing on his back. His nose was pouring blood down his face. One of his buddies bent down to help him up, when I turned and clocked four knuckles to the black guy on the chin, he hunched over, stunned momentarily. The other guy was taking off his coat so that he could join into the brawl that was about to begin. My adrenaline was pumping, I was juiced and ready; I felt like I could take on all four of these jocks with no worries, but I was thankful that Ryan was with me. Suddenly, through the crowd, behind the jocks came Brian and Jeff… Jeff pushed one of the guys from behind and said…

Looks like we got a little rumble here bro’s, but even odds now. I couldn’t help but smile on my insides, then Jeff said, so are we going to dance a stomp or what?! Jeff was the tallest in our group of Knights, solid and strong, but also really nice and gentle-manner, and he came to help out the shortest of the group and Ryan.

They picked up their friend with the broken nose spewing blood all over him, unto the floor, and we had a face off. It was the four of us verses the four of him. The intensity filled the air and went through my body. I could see the fear in all of their eyes, with excitement rushing through mine.

The energy-rush is the greatest high of all time, a monarch fuehrer natural high nothing can top… You can do anything on the energy-rush… I was happy, moments like this never come that often in the everyday life of a lower-class suburban kid, and I wanted to release the rush on all of them from the energy, and break bones. Win or lose the only one I had to prove something too was myself, but I knew we weren’t going to lose, and by the look in their eyes, they knew they were going to lose.

They were all in a slight shake, hesitating in their thoughts of: if they should make a move. I knew they wanted to back down, but their pride was on the line with all the kids watching. The guy with the blood draining from his nose also had tears running down his face. I was relaxed but yet anxious to get this little fight going. I clinched my fist…

…when someone from the crowd yelled… Teacher!

Natural instincts took over and everyone started running. I almost felt like I was running from the bulls, except if you get tagged by a bull the odds you only get hurt, and the pain goes away. If you get caught by teachers you are looking at suspension and for me it would be assault on my record, and juvenile hall. I didn’t know what was worse, because I didn’t want my name to be around the teachers that I was a troublemaker, especially with the business I was in; it was a needed want to stay low-key.

Running from the teachers brought back memories of being a freshman and smoking weed on the trail next to the school: the security guard came around the corner in his little golf cart, Brian and I were highly ripped from the weed running through us… running through the woods… for some reason I got a rush off of this…

…My heart was pounding, and I wasn’t even scared, this was fun for me. Every life needs excitement: most people just choose the smart way to excite themselves. I was never one to start fights, but I’d try and finish one if it were started with me, or whoever I wanted to defend…

We dashed through the halls, sliding right by people. I almost ran into a girl, but there was no way I was going to do that, I slammed into the side of the locker and slid right by her… God, she’s a looker, a beautiful brunette with green eyes stronger than emeralds; they seemed to pass by in slow-motion, with her eyes looking deeply into mine. I felt something.

I looked back and caught a glance of the notebook she held that said Karlee hugged in one arm, she almost gave me a smile as I ran off. I wonder if she’s new here? Down the stairs we went, kids without fear till safety hid us by our cars

"That was right on dude," Jeff said hunched over as we caught our breath standing next to my car.

"You think they are going to want to mess with us James? Brian asked.

They won’t even want to see us, they were scared, I replied back. … I looked and saw Karlee in my thoughts… she was beautiful…

Yeah, they were scared, you messed that dude up in one punch, Ryan said leaning against my car and lighting up a cigarette.

I leaned against my car next to Ryan and watched all the kids rushing to go and sit in the traffic of the parking lot. I partly listened to what the boys were talking about, but I was mainly just trying to clear my thoughts… I wished I could feel that spirit-rush all the time.

The brunette who I slid passed by the locker caught my mind. God, she’s beautiful. I knew she wasn’t the one, but we had a moment in each other’s eyes, was I just wasting my time thinking about her? What if I was just saying she wasn’t the one to stop me from pursuing her any deeper, to hold myself back, because there was something there, and I felt it… But I thought my one would be a blonde…

Hey Ryan, let me get a burn off that burner (cigarette) bro, I said, then leaned over and grabbed the cigarette from his hand that he was giving me. I put the smoke in between my lips and inhaled when I saw Treena off in the distance: the girl Ryan had fancied. She was walking with a friend. I leaned over to Ryan and quietly said, hey Ry, there she is, and I pointed to Treena. Go talk to her.

You think she might be mad about the whole fight thing?

No way dude, she probably dug it quite a bit. Don’t ask me why, fighting sorcerers.

You think?

Girls dig a guy who is tough. It is a fantasy to them, especially a nice guy who is tough like you.

A healer!

Dude, go. You got heart, and any girl who looks in your eyes, they’ll know, so go talk to her. If you don’t you are going to feel the biggest loser ever, I said then took a burn off his smoke.

Let me get a quick drag off my smoke, then I’ll go.

No dude, not going to happen, but I got a mint for you, I said pulling, my mints out of my pocket then handing them to him.

Cool thanks, he took a mint and made his way to Treena. The reverse lights of their car had turned on right when Ryan tapped on the passenger side window, where she sat. She rolled down the window and they began to converse, after a minute or two, or however long it took me to smoke the rest of Ryan’s burner, she gave him a piece of paper through the window, and he came running back with the biggest smile of life on his face.

I got her number, he said bashful like with an ear to ear grin on his face.

Right on bro.

When should I call her?

Call her tonight and tell her goodnight like at nine o’clock or something.

Its better, just make it short and sweet, you know what I mean?

Unless she starts talking to you, then go with it.

Cool. You got that burner bro? Ryan said looking at my empty hands. I could only smile and shake my head cause he knew it was gone. Its cool. Who needs cigarettes anyway.

What’s the deal? What are we going to do? Jeff asked.

Let’s go get high, Brian said enthused like it was something we’ve all never done before. I can’t remember a time when I wasn’t high, except for my younger years, which brought forth the question: am I a winner?

My house, no ones home, Ryan offered with a destination.

Cool, lets roll, I said at the same time I pulled out my sunglasses from my coat pocket, then put them on.

I’m with James, you roll with Jeff, Ryan said to Brian. Ryan tossed Jeff a small piece of paper, which I thought a piece of bud was inside of it. I knew that Ryan’s intentions were for rolling up the purple weed he had, so we could get extra high; appetizers before dinner, but today, it was dinner, then dessert.

Ryan and I got in my car, and we tagged behind Jeff and Brian.

Ryan pulled out a bud from his pencil pouch, then looked up and hid the bud in his hand. What’s with Johnny Security and his new video camera? The security guard was standing in the parking lot with a video camera. We were only a couple cars from where he was standing.

I couldn’t stand the security guard and his brown hair and little mustache. His attitude was about as cool as having a burning match in your hand, but everyone needs a job, and you have to respect him for that. I knew he didn’t like us from the looks he would give us. And that started the first time he saw me.

What if they have video cameras around the school and they saw us fight?

If they had cameras around the school, word would’ve been out right when they came, probably even before they came. Someone would’ve told us before anybody.

Later cheese, Ryan said to himself through the glass with a wave to the security guard, driving by his glare, then started breaking down the weed, to roll up the joint.

How much you flip today?

About a zone and a half zip, maybe more.

Nice.

Do you want some of your money now, or do you want it all when I have it all?

No, all at once works… its cool. Ryan sold for me around school.

Ryan licked his lips then sparked up the joint he had just rolled from the purple weed. He passed it my way for my hit of an afternoon delight.

The intake of the disorientating oxygen of the purple was smooth but also harsh, and when you exhaled it you knew you were hitting some of the highest-grade weed you can find in the world. When I saw the bud he had before he rolled it, it was only purple and white.

I took another inhale, and the toxins of THC hit my blood-stream with an unknown feeling… I saw a shadow fly pass the windshield… My mind was taken over with a squinting of my eyes in blackness and red, by some unknown force; it seemed like it was biting at my mind with unclear thoughts and stress.

Hey Ry, what do you know about cocaine? My mind spoke, almost like it just blurted out before I could even think about what I was saying.

I know it sobers you up when you’re drunk, from what my bro told me, and leaves you with a shitty comedown.

I didn’t know your brother is into that stuff?

Yeah dude, its total down-low stuff, like on the level of the UFO’s and stuff.

Crazy, I said mellow toned and astonished for the fact that I knew his brother Joel as long as I knew him, and I had no clue of his secrets behind closed doors, but its not my business anyway.

You’re telling me. I walked into his room and caught him, Ken and some other dudes braffing (snorting) up lines one night.

No bones. Ken and Joel were both older than us. Many bowls and nights of drinking coexisted between us. They were the only ones I knew close to me not trying in life, but I think its cause they were happy living simple, more people should, it’s less stress.

I was always close to Ken even though we’ve drifted apart, but Ken was one of the most resplendent-sparkling intelligent person’s I knew. Everything he’d say was bright with brilliance or he just wouldn’t talk.

Yeah, crazy man. He explained it all to me.

What’d he say.

One thing he said, was that if you get a girl doing it, she’ll be talking your ear off and jonesing for more so she can talk your ear off some more.

I snapped out from possession from the red-hazy squint. The shadow had left and my mind became disgusted, I don’t want to hear that bro. That stuff isn’t my style, I said lowly toned handing him back the joint after blowing out a hit. Who wants to get a girl on dope? That’s the scum of the world, my heart said irate enraged, speaking out loud.

Yeah dude, totally, way bogus man. You know me, I’m not down for that.

Any guy who does that is a sorcerer. If I ever see it I’ll destroy his ass and give him a new ass-hole out of his fucking mouth, I said getting angry at the thought of guys lacing up girls and taking their innocents. Just thinking of the destruction of angels for sex ‘virused’ inside of me.

It’s messed up stuff, I’m there with you bro, and dude… the way he talked, was crazy like, with these crazy eyes on some weird plateau of high-ness or something. I was like… weird.

Crazy, my eyes became the inhabited, in the squint from a shadow flying by windshield, with red over my eyes again. I was grumbling within, I thought the purple weed was really messing with me.

Ryan took a hit off the joint and blew out an enormous cloud of smoke, making him cough a little slight cough. He held back the big hack from the combustion of his lungs off the THC with deep breaths to stay focused.

Ryan gave another cough then said, the whole time I was there, they were just gyrating.

Did you try any of it?

No way dude, I know better than to get my nose dirty with that stuff. My nose is cleaner than clean.

Good you’re better than that. but aren’t we all… came a clear thought in my mind.

I just chilled with them, watched them mumble around in conversations that funked with my mind on a caliber of no comprehension, same was probably to them?

Crazy.

Half the time they were talking about some mumbo-jumbo stuff. I was drunk, just geeking off of them.

Blows my mind, but yeah… spread the word around that there is some cocaine going around, but I want to play around in some real big deals.

Ryan wide eyed with enthusiasm on the chance of money that he could exert his way asked, how big?

Mountains of slopes bro, big big. After that statement, my eyes lightened up in life, focus was mine again and I became me. The hypnosis of the disintegrating squint was gone, but why did it evoke and where did it come? It was like it wasn’t me who spoke those words. I know my heart is against cocaine, but my mind is always on money, so I don’t know…

Cool, Ryan said looking at the burning joint. The weed is burning, pass it on brazzie.

We arrived at Ryan’s house like an angel during the daylight: high in the sky from the purple weed. Stationary in my car I wanted to be. I could drive all day in my sleep if I had too: when there’s money to be made it’s a gift.

Out of my armrest compartment came my cell phone. Hey what’s up, I said answering the phone.

Hey bro, its Johnny! I need three full ones! Johnny shouted into my ear, yelling, along to the melodic-Jamaican-gospel music playing music playing in the background at his house

I pulled the phone a few inches from my ear since his yelling was enough to pop ear drums and make a deaf man hear, I said, guy, why are you yelling!?

Oh, my bad dude, I’m so messed up, and the music is hell’a loud bro. I’ve been partying for like ever dude, you don’t even know.

You’re right dude, I don’t know, but cool. Where you at?

I’m at my place in Seattle, I’ve been here for I don’t know how long.

How bout I meet you there in about an hour or so, give or take, cool?

Cool, I’ll be there!

I returned his yell with my own comic of relief, cool, late!

Late!

Hey Ryan.

Yo.

You want to bomb down to Seattle with me on a drop.

No dude, that’s cool. I got to go make some money.

Cool, I’ll be around.

You better come back and kick it.

You already know it bro. My boys, that’s all I need, that and the unmentioned fact of my ever filling wallet: the wallet that was only distracting me from what I really needed.

Hit me up when you get back and we’ll party for a few. You want to drink?

Um, I don’t know, it’s a school night, I said.

You got your work done?

Of course what about you.

Just like you, always on time if not early.

Nice. Tell Jeff and Bri I’ll give you guys a buzz when I’m done.

Cool.

Cool, late, Ryan got up out of his seat.

Late. My car door was closed and Ryan was lighting up a smoke when I drove off. I was on my way to my place to pick up three pounds of weed.

CHAPTER 4

The front door to my house closed of my single story house in my lower income neighborhood, around the hall I walked, pass my parents unseen, they were into their work in the dining room sitting at the dining room table: strategizing on a blueprint. My dad where my Thailand and India blood came from, with dark hair and wide eyes, a unique version of an Asian and my mother where my French, Irish, and English are both machinist, in an industry that was up and down, but with their years of experience there was always a job for them, they could go all over the world with their knowledge… I ended up down the stairs in my basement room…

My voyage was to the set of my secret compartment in my basement. There was an opening behind a book shelf in front of an old storage place that used to be my old closet. I had built the book shelf in front of my old closet, blocking the hole of the storage space in the foundation of my basement with a bookshelf. No one knew where the weed was kept but my eyes, but who else needs to know, nobody.

Pulling open the bookshelf was like opening the door to a pharmacy full of medicinal marijuana, except I had a higher quality of weed than hospitals… In the space now, there were about nineteen half pound bags of weed stacked inside of five large card board boxes under some old clothes to make it look like the boxes were for clothes, but when you open the boxes, and lift up the clothes you’d see the marijuana. The storage space behind the book-shelf could be filled with 30 pounds of marijuana on a whenever needed basis. I grabbed six bags packing them into a duffel, then walked by my parents who were too busy to notice that I was trafficking marijuana right by them. None of their five plus senses were tuned into my flow, because they were in their own world, and I was in mine. We hated the world of mind games…

The bag was loaded into the trunk of my car on an adventure of selling weed; to me, this was like an everyday thing: I never cared how much weight I packed when I was mobile, as long as it got delivered.

A cool pleasant breeze hit my face when I shut the trunk of my car. I looked up into the semi-cloudy, blue-sky and saw two eagles circling, gliding freely above, one of which had a snake in its beak. I stood there imagining how great it would be to glide and float through the sky in control of myself like they were doing, in complete harmony of whatever they wanted it to be. I tried to feel what they were feeling, using a mental image… I was distorted away from the eagles, when the dreams of snakes came flashing in and out of my mind… Demons stood around me and my car… Shadows, black, with red eyes.

Controlled, I looked up to the sky, the eagle with the snake dove, when the snake was suddenly released from the clutches of its beak. The snake dropped down through the sky and landed on the hood of my car.

My gut squeezed in a slight agony of empty pain. I swallowed back the thought only to have it still within my mind, something wasn’t right and I could feel it, but not with the current event from the feeling of the environment that had abruptly changed, it wasn’t right inside of me. I looked around and the demons were gone, everything was gone, but the snake on top of the hood of my car. Then earth appeared around me and my car, reality with the snake on the hood of my car…

Was this a sign? I snapped out of the glacier state of mind to go and remove the snakes black carcass of about three feet long or so. I went to grab it, I realized that the snake was not dead, but much alive as the black snake showed its fangs, hissing through them and snapping them my way.

My hand pulled back. It didn’t want to move from the top of my car; it didn’t want to move at all unless it was biting at me grabbing at it, if I chose to again. Still showing fangs, I could see it only wanted to bite, probably on the same level as what sorcerers do.

We shared a brief interlude in each other’s eyes, and there was nothing in them, feeling-less only to its iniquity. Shitty to be you, I said to him. I wasn’t about to touch it, even though I wanted to pick it up and remove it from my car, but that wasn’t going to happen by my hands; why get bitten when you don’t have to, or I could ask the snake… why bite when you do not have to? That’s like asking the devil: Why can’t you just be good and lift your own evil curse off this world? We know you can. Maybe Satan would save himself.

But I wasn’t in the mood for this, an altercation with his fangs in my flesh was not on the menu, but he wanted to order it. If only I was anti-venom would I care? In my mind I am anti-venom, in my mind I’m anything, and can do anything… I can do anything… I said looking up in the rear view mirror…

I calmly maneuvered in