Just Maddy pt. 7

May 19th, 2019

by Martha Hubbard

‘So, that was that. Am I really doing this?’ she wondered, watching the wind-devils carousing around her porch while forcing herself to eat some of the soup she’d made for herself. ‘I need to do something or I’ll go nuts.’ 

She got up, rechecked her back pack and added a collection of Robert Frost poems. The shouting, laughing and yowling that passed for singing gradually quieted as the combination of much cheap alcohol and Maddy’s little helper defeated even the loudest and most determined reveller. 

‘Boy, oh boy,’ Maddy thought. ‘Are they ever going to have sore heads in the morning. And am I glad I won’t have to deal with them.’ That thought suddenly made it all real. She was leaving. Nothing and no one was going to stop her. 

At four in the morning she slopped gingerly back to the lodge. The lounge looked like a bomb had gone off in it. Bodies were sprawled everywhere. Chair legs were snapped, couches were damp with vomit and urine and the floor was awash in a mix of trash and something stinky. Maddy extinguished the last of the candles and banked the fire carefully. There was no way she was going to allow an accident to call attention to her absence. A fire in the lodge would bring in the police, and they would want to know where she was They wouldn’t lift a finger over a runaway 15 year old, but a fire might make them feel they had to look for her.. Most of the local cops thought she should have run away ages ago, anyway. At the sound of her moving about, Da opened one eye, saw it was her, grunted and rolled over, back to sleep.

Turning off the lights, she went into the kitchen. There, she boiled eggs, made up more platters of meat and cheese, covering them with cling-film, sliced bread, put out butter and jam. Then she thoroughly washed out the coffee canister and put fresh grounds in to the top. They could boil their own damn water. 

After making sure that all the doors and window were properly shut and locked, she picked up the sandwiches she had made for herself and slipped silently back up to her cabin. At five-thirty, she walked onto her porch, looked up to the stars which had come out, and set off down the road for the main gate to the camp. There was no way she was going to be late this morning. 

At twenty-five minutes past six, Maddy saw the lights of her escape chariot approaching. She signalled and it glided to a stop right beside her. 

“Morning Maddy. You’re off early?”

“Yea, Harold. One of Da’s guests got some kind of stomach bug. I’ve got to track down the pharmacist and get something to stop the vomiting.”

“They have to send a wee thing like you? None of those big guys could have gone for it?”

“They’re mostly too drunk to stand up. Let alone drive a car.” Maddy held out a fiver for her ticket. 

“I suppose you’re right.” Harold shook his head. No one in the area much liked what went on in the lodge in the winter. “Bah! Put that away. I don’t want your money. Just sit up front and keep me company.”

Maddy looked around. She was the only passenger. “Sure Harold. Thanks.” As the bus moved down the coast, weaving in and out of the small villages that depended on it, the sky lightened as dawn slowly condescended to make an appearance. By the time they got to Bangor, the canopy overhead was a brilliant lavender, while the snow carpet was spattered with silver and gold glitter from the rising sun. It was going to be a beautiful day.

“You take care now, Maddy,” said Harold as she got off in the bus parking lot.

“I will Harold, I promise.” Maddy went straight inside to the ticket window. 

“One single ticket to Boston, please,” she asked politely, looking directly into the cashier’s face with her startling, clear blue eyes.

“Boston! That’s a long way for a little thing like you.”

“I know and I’m so excited. It’s the first time I’ve ever been outside of Maine.”

“Wow! Are you sure you’ll be all right so far from home?”

“Of course. I’m going to see my Gran. She’s gonna meet me there.” 



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Just Maddy pt. 6

May 12th, 2019

by Martha Hubbard

The next morning, the sky was the sullen grey that tells you a storm is on the way. Late March in those parts often brought one last blow out, and this looked like a real stinker on the way. In the kitchen, Maddy got the coffee ready first. There would be a lot of sore heads desperate for caffeine. She was making toast and had started frying eggs when her father slouched in, grunted and took the mug she’d prepared for him. 

“Weather’s looking evil-like,” he said. 

“Yah, I saw that. Don’t guess your guests are gonna go out shooting animals in this.”

“You guess right. Keep the coffee coming and don’t put any beer or whiskey out until after lunch.”

“Right,” she called to Da’s back as he lumbered into the dining room. 

‘Great!’ she thought. ‘This lot’ll start drinking as soon as Da turns the faucet. They’ll drink him dry, if he lets them. By evening, they’ll be legless and dangerous. Don’t forget the dangerous.’ 

Maddy put a chaffing dish of fried eggs and bacon, and a pile of buttered toast covered with a tea-towel, onto the sideboard. Then she dug the large party size coffee canister  from the store cupboard, cleaned and filled it with water, putting a large filter into the top section where she measured out the cheapest coffee they had – not her Da’s special roast, he only used when he was romancing a new victim. Then she went back to her cabin and started to pack.

“Once that lot pass out, you should be clear to go,” said Gran. 

“That could take a long time, given the way this bunch can hold their poison.” Outside, a sleazy southern wind, threw hailstones like confetti at her windows. 

“Thank you gods. At least none of them are likely to be out wandering around in this.”

“Wonder if we couldn’t speed that passing out process up a bit…”

“You’ve got a plan, right Gran?” Maddy giggled in spite of her rising panic. Was she really brave enough to run off in this weather? Bah! She wasn’t afraid of any storm. With Gran’s help and training, she’d become a creature of the forest, safe no matter where she was or what the weather. The trees and the animals all knew her and would protect her. Her only fear, and this was a biggy, was that Bill would somehow wake and catch her.

Maddy decided to count the money in her bank box, while Gran cogitated. She had dug up and brought the box inside just after the start of Mud-month. ‘Was there really $500 in there? Would it be enough? Enough for what,’ she wondered.

“Don’t you go wasting time thinking about things that’s going to happen tomorrow. We have to concentrate on getting you out of here safe and sound tonight,” Gran’s voice skewered her terror. “You can think yourself sick, if you’re not careful.” 

“I need something to do. Give me something to do,” she pleaded.

“Did you save and dry the valerian, like I told you last June?”

“Of course, Gran.”

“Let me see it. How much have you got?”

“Quite a lot. Like you told me.”

“And is it all dry and crumbly – like I told you?”

“Gran!” Maddy didn’t know whether to shout, cry or giggle. Valerian was a very effective, nice smelling herb. It’s main use was in relieving sleeplessness. “You think I should stick some of his into their evening coffee?”

“And anywhere else you can think of that wouldn’t be easily detected. What time does the bus to Bangor come through here.”

“Lemme see. First morning bus is at 06:20.” Maddy kept bus schedules in her head the way other people kept gossip and useless news reports.

“Do you think the snow will affect that? Maybe it’ll be cancelled.”

“Gran! This is Maine. Busses don’t get cancelled and schools don’t close over a little snow. Takes a real Northeaster to do that.”

“Just checkin’”

“Anyway it’s Sunday, so that driver will be Harold, Harold Perkins. Might be a little late ‘cause of the snow but he’s the best. Nothing stops Harold from getting his bus into Bangor. Personally I think he’s got a lady-friend down there.”    

With one thing and another, it was soon 6 o’clock. Maddy was just opening her door when she heard her Da shouting. “Maddy! God damnit” Where are you. This bunch of gorillas gonna be wanting their dinners – like half an hour ago.”

“On my way, Da.”

“Good and make it quick.”

‘Right, make it quick, slip on the ice, break an arm or a leg… whose gonna feed your gorillas then?’

The storm was taking a break; the winds had slowed and it was slightly warmer. Making her way very carefully across the little bridge, holding tight to the guard rail, she noticed the snow on the boards was melting slightly. ‘Later when the temps drop again, that’s gonna turn to ice. A pot of water on there as I’m leaving would help the process along nicely. Between the weakened struts and black ice, anyone trying to get across there in the dark is going to get a very nasty surprise.’ 

In the lodge, Maddy put out platters of cold cuts and cheese, fried up a giant bowl of frozen French fries which she sprinkled liberally with salt, pepper and valerian. She thought about making a salad, but this lot never ate ‘rabbit food.’ Finally she re-filled the coffee canister adding a handful of the sleep inducing herb. She was just about to start bringing the food into the dining room when Da came into the kitchen. 

“Let me do that. I don’t want those jerks seeing you and getting any ideas. You get back to your cabin and lock the door.”

“Thanks Da.”

“Come back late after they’ve all passed out to clean up.”

more Just Maddy? The story finishes it publication run next Sunday, May 19th

May 19th


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Just Maddy pt. 5

May 5th, 2019

by Martha Hubbard

Three years slogged away. Maddy’s menses started and her chest sprouted little buds. She took to wearing three layers of her baggiest sweaters and hoodies. Even with these she could sense the change in the way these winter guests looked at her. One night, she was in the kitchen finishing the dishes. Just as she was about to go see if Da wanted anything else, she heard one particularly odious old fart commenting to Bill. 

“That girl of yours is starting to look mighty ripe,” he said, laughing. “I wouldn’t mind having a crack at her one of these nights.”

“Keep your hands and your cracks to yourself. She’s mine,” her father spit. 

“But she’s your daughter, ain’t she?”

“Don’t matter. If I says she’s mine, she’s mine. S’long as I want ‘er. Later, we’ll see.”  

“I’ll wait then.”

It was like being kicked in the chest. Part of her wanted to grab a skillet and hit the bastard, both bastards, on their heads. A few seconds of deep breathing told her that would only get her in more trouble. Turning the kitchen lights off, she scrunched into a corner until she heard Bill and his buddies move into the lounge by the fireplace. This group’s week was almost over. They would stay up drinking until they passed out. Fuck them! They could get their own booze. When she was sure they wouldn’t notice, Maddy tip-toed quietly out the front door, down the steps to her path. Once she was in the shadow, she ran like a baby deer to her cabin.

Safely there, she closed all the shutters tight, double locked the door and pushed a chest in front. Any asshole wanting to get in here tonight was gonna have to work at it.
Did her father… really intend to, to do that to her? Somehow she wasn’t really surprised. In the last year or so, Bill’s supply of live-in bed warmers had thinned to almost nothing. Well, look at him… mostly bald, just a few greasy grey strands wavering across his shiny dome, red faced from shouting so much, beer belly dripping over his belt. What kind of woman would want to come here, spread her legs when he wasn’t too drunk to get it up, and work like a dog, for that? Maddy tried to picture a man that her mother could have loved enough to marry. He must have been attractive once. He sure wasn’t anymore.

Sure that she wouldn’t sleep a wink, she got into bed in all her clothes and called Granny Maggie’s image to mind. It didn’t take long, as if she’d been waiting for her call. 

“Is he for real,” Maddy cried. 

“Sadly, yes,” Maggie said. “And there are far too many men like that in the world. This is a good lesson for you to have learned – before you get out into the world outside of the Maine woods.”

“That’s disgusting. They are all disgusting. I hate men!”

“That’s a bit extreme, I think.”

“Damn! What do I do now?”

“I think you know.”

“It’s time to leave, isn’t it?”

“Well passed time. Make sure you have your plans in order, then do it.” 

As Maddy began to organise a check list for the next night, she fell into the healing sleep she needed but hadn’t expected to get.


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Just Maddy pt. 4

April 28th, 2019

by Martha Hubbard

read from the beginning, here

Winter brought hunters, and they were a whole different story: red hats, red jowly faces and red jackets; some even brought Day-Glo safety vests. That wasn’t a bad idea, as after two nights of sitting up drinking with Bill, most were so hungover and befuddled, they’d shoot at anything that moved. The extra bright colour might slow them down long enough to wonder if that was a deer or a mate. Sometimes watching this motley band of winter warriors stagger into their SUVs on Monday morning, Maddy thought it was a wonder they ever shot anything but each other. Somehow they did bag enough deer, wild pigs and rabbits to bring them back year after year.


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Just Maddy pt. 3

April 21st, 2019

by Martha Hubbard

read the story from the beginning, here

As spring, such as it was, trundled on into summer, Maddy’s life settled into a predictable routine. The work was hard but no worse than at Aunt Mary’s. At least she didn’t have to corral a herd of screaming kids from dawn to dusk. Summers could be almost fun. She even got to swim in the river that ran beside their property. And the campers and hikers who used Sunset Lodge were generally polite and friendly – some even tipped her. Tips she got to keep if Bill didn’t see it.  

“Hey, Maddy,” said Tom, daddy to three screaming hellions, whom Maddy had tamed by showing them how to hunt for deer tracks and getting them to silently watch beavers building their damn. “Thank you so much for making our stay here so special and peaceful,” he said handing her a folded up dollar bill.

“You’re very welcome. Come back and see us next year,” she said. “Drive safe, get home safe.”

After waving them goodbye, she unfolded the paper to find a whole fiver.

“I’ll have that, Missy,” Bill sneered.

“Da! He gave that to me. I earned it.”

Slap! His hand was fast and hard. “Don’t you ever talk back to me, girl. Everything earned here belongs to me.” He waddled off humming.

“No wonder you can’t keep a woman here longer ‘n a month or two,” she said to his back.

That night as she was rubbing cream into her cheek which was still red, Granny Maggie appeared. “Let me have a look at that.” Something soft and gentle seemed to stroke her cheek, easing the pain – just a little. “So the bastard hit you. If I had the power, I’d kill that son-of-a bitch!”

“Gawd, Gran, I wish you could.”

“Sadly, that’s beyond my powers, little one. But…”


“I think it’s time you started to develop an emergency fund.”

“And how am I supposed to do that?”

“Back to asking dumb questions, are we? Seriously. Think about it when is he most likely to not notice where things are going?”

“When he’s boozing it up with his buddies.”

“Exactly. And when one of them comes to pay you for a round, what do you do?

“Put the money into his cashbox. And if a tinsy- tiny bit goes into my pocket, he’s unlikely to notice.”

“Don’t get greedy. No more ‘n a dollar or two at a time. Remember what they say about acorns.”

Yea, and think about how long that takes.”

“Patience grasshopper. Neither Rome nor an escape route were built in a day.”

“I don’t want to go to Rome, I want to go to Boston.”

“You’ll get to both places, I promise. Now we need to think about where to hide your bank.”


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Just Maddy pt.2

April 14th, 2019

by Martha Hubbard

read the story from the beginning, here

Winters in Northern Maine are long, cold, snow covered, and mostly grey. In the early mornings, waiting for the sky to lighten enough for her to see the path to the main lodge, Maddy would watch the sky slowly turning from inky sable to grey and wonder how many names for grey could be thrown at this one landscape. Then there was March. As bad as the winter months could be, March was even worse. The relentless, damp cold now delivered another challenge – mud. Mud, so thick and clinging, it could snap an unwary horse’s fetlock as soon as look at it. One pitch-black night, exhausted after finishing her chores, Maddy, trudging back to her cabin, got stuck so fast, she couldn’t pull her feet out. Stranded there, cold water creeping over the tops of her boots, she imagined herself pulled slowly down into the underground karst caves that riddled the area. She had just about decided to lie down, to see if this might speed things up, when her father came outside and saw her sliding down into the muck.

“God damnit Maddy! What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m stuck Da. Can’t get out. Can’t go back. Don’t know what to do….”

“Stay there. I’ll get some boards and a rope.”

“Where the fuck does he think I’m gonna go,” she wondered, but not out loud. Once she was finally pulled out, cleaned up and back in her own room, he chewed her out something fierce. But the next day, he had a crew in to put up wooden walkways, all around the camp, that made it safer to get around. 

Not long after the mud incident, Maddy’s Granny Maggie began to talk to her. At first it was just in her dreams, soon it was in all the places she went to escape the unrelenting tedium of her days and Bill’s constant shouting. 

“You’re not as fucked as you think you are,” said a voice she recognised as Gran’s.

“I’m making this up, aren’t I? You’re not real, right?” Maddy was sitting on a large flat stone in the middle of a brook that ran off from the main flow of the river. Her grandmother’s voice seemed to float out of the trilling water swirling around her.

 “I’m as real as you think I am,” said Maggie, before beginning a rambling dissertation about how the stone Maddy was sitting on had arrived in its location.

The next day Maddy came back with a notebook. If her Gran was going to tell her stuff, she wanted to remember them. 

“OK, let’s say you’re real. At least your voice is. Why are you here?” Maddy spoke in the direction of a dark pool near her rock.

“Why do you think I’m here?”

“You do know it’s impolite to answer a question with another question?”

“If you want me to stop, then don’t ask questions you already know the answers to.”

“OK, fair go. So you’re here to help me, how are you planning on doing that?”   

A soft breeze, totally unlike early April, rattled the branches and ruffled her hair. The pool she had been addressing began to swirl round and round until a face she thought she recognised, appeared. “Hey, is that really you? You look a little like I remember my mother looking,” she asked.

“Well, I would hope so. I was her mother after all,” said Maggie. “I’m going to try and teach you all the things your mother would have taught you if she had lived.”

“Like what?”

“You really are a suspicious little thing.”

“You would be too, if you had to live my Da Bill.”

“Fair point. Now, to begin. What do you know about plants?”

“Not much. Some are safe to eat or touch; others will make you sick if you eat them or give you a nasty rash if you grab them.”

“I suppose that’s a start. Now listen…..”

As spring warily crept up from the south and the forest carpet began to turn green and spongy, Maddy and her Gran’s voice – Maggie had explained that it took a lot of energy to incorporate and teach at the same time – examined and sometimes tasted vast numbers of small plants, lichen and tree buds. Maggie learned their properties and uses; which could harm, which could heal wounds or nourish a sickly animal, and how to collect and prepare these. She very quickly stop interrupting with useless questions, sucking in this new world of information and possibilities like a parched sponge. 

Later, when the thaw was fully operational, the runoff that year was so powerful it carved a channel that grew into a ditch under the wooden walkway connecting Maddy’s cabin to the main path. Grumbling as ever, Bill conceded that a proper bridge was needed so Maddy wouldn’t fall in and break something getting to work. Two of his mates from town arrived and constructed a little wooden bridge that actually worked, complete with guard rails and everything. It was a little rickety-rackety, but Bill reminded her that “beggars shouldn’t be choosers.” Maddy silently agreed. 

A few nights later, she was lying in bed talking to Gran, something she did most nights now, before falling asleep.

“…so it wobbles a little when there’s a strong breeze, but I think it’s safe enough,” Maddy said. 

“For you definitely, I’m sure. But…. “

“But what?” 

“… safe enough for a little thing like you. Maybe you should think about loosening some of the joints – just a little bit. And you could scrape away at some of the supports, too. Not too much, mind you…”

“So the bridge would still be safe for me, but someone bigger and heavier would get an unwelcome surprise.”

“That’s my girl.”

keep surfing through for more “Just Maddy”, every Sunday until May 19th.

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Just Maddy

April 7th, 2019

by Martha Hubbard

Everyone called her Maddy. Anyone who thought about it, and there were not many, assumed it was short for Madeline. In fact, the name on her birth certificate read Margaret (for her grandmother), Denise (her mother), Keller (her father, Bill). However, it had been a long time since she had had a mother, a grandmother or any name but Maddy.  

After her mother died, trying unsuccessfully to give birth to the brother her father had so insisted on, seven year old Maddy had been sent to Bill Keller’s sister, Mary Teresa, to be just another mouth in a large unruly nest of siblings and cousins. By age twelve, she had grown into a skinny, awkward, mostly silent young girl. Preternaturally shy, when spoken to, she ducked her head, causing long, strait, brown hair to cover her face. She earned her keep, what there was of it, by acting as chief babysitter, cook and dog’s body for Mary Teresa and Pierre’s brood, that had run to six before Mary Teresa told her husband, “If you don’t have the snip, I’ll cut the damn thing off myself. 

Her own father, Bill, seldom bothered with her. He never remarried, but a rotating carousel of girlfriends kept him sexually sated. Few lasted more than a few months once they understood that their main task, outside of warming his bed, was to shoulder the work of running a traditional hunting lodge fleshed out by a collection of rustic wood cabins. Popular with nature lovers, it attracted campers and hikers in the summer and hunters in the winter. In season, it was one long, hard grind. It was on one of his rare visits to his sister, that Bill noticed a very busy and useful young girl who was in fact his own daughter. 

“Why do I have to go and live with him?” Maddy demanded while Mary Teresa was trying to explain what had been decided. “I thought you were my family.”

“He’s your father,” her aunt replied through clenched lips.

“After all this time, he suddenly decides he wants me to live with him. It’s not right!”

“It may not be right, but it’s his right. So I have to let you go.”

“Don’t you care at all?”

“Of course I care. The kids’ll be devastated. They think of you as their big sister.”

“Right! And now you’ll have to pay somebody to babysit.” Maddy threw the words at her aunt as she ran out of the room. There was no way any of them were going to see her cry.

Read the next part of Just Maddy, here,

and keep surfing through for more “Just Maddy”, every Sunday until May 19th.


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Gonzo Days….part V [ the metamorphosis occurs ]

March 31st, 2019

by Terry Smith

After three days in a Tijuana jail I just couldn’t wait to feel the salt spray of the ocean on my skin…leaving my cocooned friend on the bed in a motel in Big Sur I grabbed a bottle of tequila , two joints  & my hat … wearing only that & my panama pajama’s ( the sheen of sweat that is always on your skin in that part of the world ) I head out toward the open sea……I make myself a nice little pillow out of some wet sand…( someday to be someones window with the ghost of a view of my ass )…take a swig off the bottle & smoke a joint….then i hide the bottle & the other joint under the pillow ( or at least I think i did…I was pretty buzzed at this point) & dive head first into the water…..after a little body surfing I felt  somewhat better ’cause clearing the cobwebs of a mexican  jail takes a lot of nature.& booze….I go back to my bottle & light the other joint….then time for  a little nap….when I awaken I head back to the motel & when I walk in to my surprise  there is the most beautiful naked woman I have ever seen….some kind of porcelain goddess with eyes like lightning & a body like rolling thunder….I toss her the bottle & say “man room service has changed”…when to my surprise she says (with a voice made of pure honey like the kind straight out of the bees ass ) ..”no you asshole it’s me ! “…I looked for a moment around the room & noticed the cocoon was missing…” Roach!” i said…”Damn…I take shits in front of you !”…she looked at me for a moment & said ” Yeah…that’s gotta stop.” Then she took a hit off the bottle while walking towards me.like the wind….dropped to her knees & started licking the head of my penis..I am simply stupefied…this gorgeous woman was once a creature so fowl nobody but I could stand it….I always had to pay extra anyplace we went just to get it in….& we were friends because “the roach” as I called it never judged me…& trust me there was plenty to judge ……while i am playing all the crazy ass shit we have done together in my mind like some photo-graphical carnival ride she has brought my cock to full attention & has proceeded to swallow it whole …gulping like she hadn’t had anything to drink for days & that caused me to explode in her throat like a fire-hose had sprung a leak….not missing a beat she stood up & kissed me & whispered in my ear ” that is for being my friend, always.”….” & tomorrow i’m going to let you in the back way”…then she laid down on the bed & proceeded to fall asleep


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Gonzo Days…part III [.leaving Las Vegas on our way to the city of Angels]

March 24th, 2019

by Terry Smith

….It was time to leave Vegas….the golden goose was gone…man that bitch was crazy..& there wasn’t going to be anymore free rides for this pony boy & besides my luck had turned to shit at the crap tables anyway….so the roach & i saddled up & headed towards the desert…I don’t know if it was the psilocybin pizza or the 5th of tequila but the music & the desert melted into one giant beat.driving us onwards…..my friend long since passed out ,fedora over his eyes & me just getting ready to take another swig when the worm came out of the bottle….adjusted his glasses looked me straight into one of my eyes & said to me…”drive 17 miles…the second cactus on the left”…well at this point i knew there was nothing left to do so I swallowed him…chewy like an albino raisin…now with my gps firmly swimming throughout my body i had a destination…..when i arrived at the cactus my body was recreating the great San Francisco quake of 1906 & I vomited the most spectacular rainbow…a splatter of colors like some cartoon character had just gotten violently mutilated…specks of color everywhere…. then they all flew out to create the sunset…feeling a little better i laid down on the floor of this once mighty ocean & listened to it’s ancient waves as one by one the stars came out….they started speaking to me in morse code…braille of light touching my eyes like galaziel acupuncture & as i watched the stars started to line up…front to back to form words one behind the other revealing the secrets of everything…I took a crayon from my pocket….yes i always have a box with me …but i could not find ANYTHING to write on…except a ticket i got last week for going 129 in a 35….the cop asked me if i knew how fast i was going & i said no i was to busy rolling a cigarette & arguing on my cell phone with the ghost of christmas past ..but i knew if i topped it out I could get it to 140…..but that is a story for another time…i wrote it down on the ticket as best i could when i noticed that my friend & i were covered in agave worms …I guess they could smell a family member on my breath ….the little guy just wanted to go home….i broke free but the roach was covered in some kind of tequila cocoon …I grabbed him & threw him in the back seat …..& headed off to Los Angeles … 

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Gonzo Days…part I [ jukebox breakfast special # 9 ]

March 17th, 2019

by Terry Smith

…Somewhere in the middle of the desert by the side of the road is a little diner called “Eats”…..Kafka’s cockroach & I decide to stop & have breakfast….I get “your brains on drugs” with toast & orange marmalade & a tall glass of iced tea….the Metamorphosis gets the house special…we sit in silence for forty five minutes waiting for Death to arrive….but she doesn’t show……..so back in the car & on we went…

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