Back to Issue 4

The Real Deal by Robert Alton McMakin

Hey, dude, I hate to intrude and excuse me if I come off a bit rude but
if
you don't mind, I need to borrow a second of your valuable time. See,
the
heat on the street and the word I heard by that little bird sitting on
third, was that you were the person to turn to for a lead on my sought
after
prescriptions. I have quite a need and lots of addictions so if I may,
I
will go slow so please pay attention. First, I need a fat ounce of the
most
sticky, colorful, and seedless bag of hope that you can find. I am
totally
bone dry right now so go ahead and bounce, I mean hurry, and don't
waste any
valuable time. After another one of those long nights I might also need
a
couple of your fattest grams of pure love to make me feel just right,
plus a
hit of sincerity to ignite my flight into its special kind of insight.
Instead of just one hit maybe you should hook me up with a whole vile
of the
most potent devotion, so I can rip, flip, and trip face off of
happiness to
mix bliss with those other emotions. I could hallucinate aspiration by
taking concentration tabs mixed with perspiration, and still will fill
the
need to smoke a fat Texas torpedo of wisdom to help elevate to a place
where
positivity makes me think straight. When things get to fast and I start
getting a little off track, a couple of t-cuts of trust will help my
buzz to
last, or possibly a couple of those 20-milligram compassions, so I can
stop
crashing, from all that mess in my past. I'll need a triple stack of
joy to
put in my backpack for a little something to take when I start on that
humility 24ounce twelve-pack. My conscious keeps calling softly so here
is
to quickly taking this double shot of courage I bought for your
generosity.
I will pay whatever your price as long as it sounds about right, but
keep
your cell phone on in case I need to re-up with you later on tonight.