Like the time he sat in for the guitarist of a Zamrock band. Back in the days of hope, before the curfews and martial law.
He had dropped some homemade acid with the guy. The thing with artisanal LSD is you never know how strong a dose you are getting (Danny’s stories are full of rabbit holes). The guy was tripping balls and Danny just enough to think that if he kept the volume down and the fuzz maxed, he could get away with it. “Hey, all white guys look the same to them.”
Buddy could feel he is coming down. Another hit? He had started tripping Friday. It is now Tuesday morning and there is not much going on.
Danny tells the story of the time he ended up in the stockade.
Survival week. He’d kept the fire going by not sleeping and kept going by not coming down. As the week was ending, the corporal with the Napoleon complex told him that with his attitude, he would never succeed in life.
Danny’s answer: “Look me in the eyes when you talk to me. Oh wait, you can’t. Well I’m not lowering myself to your level” He picks the guy up daring him to repeat himself.
This is funny as shit for Danny. They locked him up for a week but this is cheap price to pay for the clever line, especially seeing as he pulled a fast one on them. The only reading material allowed was a bible and he used it to smuggle in 15 grams of hash. And, now every time a JW or an evangelical tries to convert him, he quotes the part where he is supposed to kill proselytizers.
Buddy closes his eyes. A light show starts in his brain.
“Hey Danny, if these drugs are supposed to be all peace and love, how come the origin for the word assassin is …”
He stops. It’s pointless. He remembers. Danny showed up in his head on Sunday. He lets himself drift off to sleep.