That one time I found a dead guy

So, one time I found a dead guy when I was really stoned on weed.

Here’s what happened. Mike and I had stopped by a friend’s house in a small subdivision in Puna. The guy began smoking weed and offered us some. I hardly ever smoked- it had been at least a year since I had touched the stuff. But for some reason I decided to go for it. It was passed around several times, and by the end I was more high than I had ever been from weed. When I walked outside and to the car at the end of the visit, all the plants jumped out at me, and seemed to vibrate and hum and greet me with waves and nods. I laughed out loud to myself, feeling giddy and flattered that they would notice me.

I hopped in the car, laid back in the passenger seat and turned to Mike as he began to  drive.

“Mike. I am so fucking high.”  I chortled and Mike looked back and me and laughed.

We slowly drove the streets of the subdivision, looking to see if there were any properties for sale. We passed by this one place- it had a lava rock wall and a gate, but just over the gate, as we passed, something strange flashed by – something hanging from the rafters of the carport.

I sat in silence for 5 seconds- pondering what I had just seen.

“Um… hang on a second. Can you turn around? Go past that place again.” I said.

“Why? What is it?” Mike replied.

“Just do it.”

He turned around and we slowly drove by again. It was hard to see over the gate as we passed by, but it looked like the shiny top of a bald head hanging and swaying gently with the breeze.

“Did you see that? Is that….what I think it is?” I asked Mike.

“Yeah…that was weird. Okay, I’m going to turn around and go by it again. It’s probably nothing though.”

Mike turned around and then crept back to the house, and stopped in front. Dogs inside the house barked ferociously at us.  We strained to look over the gate from our car windows.

I could only see bits and pieces through the wall and gate, but the mysterious hanging object began to take more form- and it was clear now the shiny bald head was attached to a body.

“I know the guy who lives here”, Mike said. “He’s a little strange, it’s probably just a dummy from Halloween or something.”

I contemplated this for a second. Keep in mind, I was still really high. My brain was working extra slow trying to process this information.

“Wait a second! But it’s February, Halloween was months ago. And, and- why would a dummy have a pot-belly? And look bluish!” I said.

Mike opened the car door, walked up to the lava rock wall, and carefully peered over to get a clear view. I could tell from his expression that it wasn’t just a dummy. He ran back to the car and said “Yeah- we need to call the police.”

Shit, I thought to myself. I can barely even hold a normal conversation I’m so high. How am I going to call the cops right now and deal with this situation? I looked down to my phone- no signal to call. There weren’t any immediate neighbors so we drove down the street to the nearest house, and they called the police.

The cops instructed us to enter through the gate, and to cut down the rope the poor guy was hanging from. I’m not sure what the logic was of this, because he clearly, most certainly was dead, but being as high as I was I didn’t question it. The neighbor cut him down, and I watched his large body fall, his head smacking down hard onto the pavement, mouth and eyes wide open. The fall caused a gash in the back of his head.

I waited outside the lava wall, waiting for the police to show up, who had instructed us to stay put. Being as high as I was, I felt like I was tapping into the energy of the suicide, and  was certain I was communicating with the spirit of the deceased.

It’s okay, I said silently to the guy. You’re dead now, but it’s okay. I hope you can find peace.

The cops eventually arrived, and began to question me. I told them the story as best as I could, given my state. I left out the part about being high, and I figured that if they thought I was acting strange they would attribute it to my shock of finding a dead guy.

Now, I have to be completely honest. This is one of my classic stories now. Imagine you’re at a party and you hear this conversation:

Random partygoer: “Yeah man, I can’t smoke too much weed, or it makes me paranoid”,

Me (said in a nonchalant tone): “Yeah, I know what you mean. Ever since I found that dead guy after smoking a ton of weed it sort of messed up smoking for me…”

Wouldn’t you want to know the story?

 

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s