A Bottle of Water

TW: Contains theme of drug usage and liberal usage of swear words

"Hi, could you please buy me a bottle of water?"

I was feeling like God that day. I just won $40 in lottery from 7-11 and as I stepped out this homeless looking Mexican man out of nowhere demanded. Now obviously I was feeling 'like a g' so I said, "Sure sir, do you need anything else? Here is $5." But the guy insisisted he just needs water and nothing else. So I took my 'lazy-ass' back to the store and bought the rather luxurious Fiji water, handed him the perfect gift like a 5-star hotel busboy, and left on my merry way giddily.

"That was odd," I thought of nothing further. Before I went inside my apartment, as much giddy I was, I lit up a blunt. Pure OG California Kush Sativa dominant hybrid. I smelled the container. I usually unpack the damn bud from the packet, which although sealable, sometimes stanks the car, and I really want no smoke from 'them cops' if I ever get pulled over - so to speak, if you ignore my casual pun, and henceforth, the casual omphaloskepsis, and ergo this autological clause itself.

So was the weed that took me downt this cosmic navel gazing of Brahamana? I don't know nor can I tell. Except I felt I had a change of heart and decided to walk towards the library. On my way, I got high again. Yes, priest if you are listening, and I don't meant he superlogician Graham Priest, I am an avid toker. It started off 1 times a week, 3 times, then 3 times a day...to full blown all day - as if some hidden variable hijacked this geometric pattern a la Avicenna or was it Arybhata or Vieta? I get my Vietas twisted with Pieta as an untangled knot deliberates to a Moebius-pretzel downt the Donut store. So again I off-yonder and then take a bite of this dough transported to a helical and heliolical astral dimension of intense dopamine leading to sexual arousal. Now I could go home and relieve myself or double down with caffeine and then take my headphone and put on Goa 97, perhaps circa-anything like Dimension 5 in my playlist of YouTube, which I do warn, I did pay premium just for this rather urgent reason of post-high bliss.

I swivel and then avoid my dwelling and head straight to bus stop. I wanna relax. I wanna be chauffeured up by an ever professional driver who doubles as Lyft driver in the weekends...suddenly I get cottonmouth so I exit the next stop for a water. "How Bizarre!" I echo Smashmouth. Wait was it even Smash Mouth...nah definitely not Limp Bizkit. Wait..wasn't there a band called Smasing Pumpkins too? Hmm..wtf... I realize my short-term RAM is getting f----ed up and I am muddling my 90s MTV music like a cake with mud.

I step over some dogshit. It's not that I don't like dogs. It's just I don't not like dogs. Indifferent. To best put it in the villain of Equalizer "It's like lint"... I feel no emotion either - which goes on to show just how psychopathic I am. Eventhough I fucking hate those rough-looking Ford drivers who comes to park and don't leash their fuckin dogs, never mind the fact I am also breaking "health code" by smoking publicly in park (eventhough I avoid kids, as they are angels and no one deserves to smoke near them...I mean I 'got my code'), where was I... eventhough I hate them I secretly admire them for having such a soft spot for animals. Yes, no wonder this country loves dog and views this animal therapy in the highest light. If you don't have compassion for a small loveable furry creature, you are just not human. I actually echo that view. My righteous self that is. The sheer fire and brimstone cloaked in California love...

I walk past Popeye's...; suddenly my phone rings. I pause; I instantly pause; I pluck my phone out like bomb defusal, as if I am careless enough I will break and shatter it; I thinly pull my phone out and do the whole pattern pin pad thing... And yes Open Sesame my phone opens to show my mom's missed call. I dial her back and her frantic tone says why did I forget it's her therapy. Anyhoo, also she needs to go to bazaar, the DMV, and to pay utilites. Gawd. I would literally pray to be frozen into pillar of salt only for Ted Bundy to liquidify and dispose me in some Poughkeepsie river or whereever the fuck the serial killers drown their body. I shovel some chicken fries and fries as if to asphyxiate me and then funnel in some further poison of Pepsi cuz Coke is out. Sodium coagulating with sugary fries and chicken entailed in the perfect post-high munchie of the eternal drug-dopamine cocktail called sugar rush. I actually wanted to run to home.

So to cut a long story short, I take my wretched 67 year.. come'on you know I gotta do this 6'7777777... old senior mom to do all the various tasks and errands. Finally after paying our bills and hitting on Charlotte the Starbucks barista in front my very mom, after she waited outside dispensary, before I loaded the cannabis into back trunk cuz you know your boi is a real G, and avoids trouble.. after I went to bank where the ATM was broken and the lady helping me had to attend merchant box before I went to Al-Tayebat to pick up Halal Meat after I almost ran stop sign cuz the fuckin tailgater would have collapsed and I neededly almost-accelerated, an ah yes, that is a real word, if not Oxford should sneak it in somewhere around ambuscade, aa, argyle, amd argosy or whatever the fuck some obscore poet post-Ovid penned a compound armadillo-arquebus -which if you think about it whatever the fuck does it even mean ...not to be found in MY ALMIRAH...

I return home at 6:03pm. I know this because I saw the strange pseud-Weyl-symmetry of the mathematical division where 3 is 1/2 of 6, yes I know pure 23 vibe of Jim Carrey... but anyhoo I decide to "treat myself" and go for a drive. All of a sudden as I driving down PCH I realize how my mother lied about getting a settlement case check. I call her and accost her. Inveigle and inveigh afterwards I erupt and thunder. How could she do it to me! She is my own mother. I realized how borderline the shouting was close to total senior abuse. I mean FFS my mother called the police on me three times...HAHAHA.

So I calm down and pull by the parking lot of an empty warehouse that used to 'house' Ralph's. <--See what I did thurr. So I roll my blunt with Grape Swisher and calm the f down. Suddenly I have this huge inspiration and urge to drive to San Diego. And voila! Just like that I made up my mind. But I gotta sober up first. Can't risk DUI. So I kill about an hour or so, perhaps 20 more minutes, spray my car, take some breathmints, and make sure I am caffeined up with a Phrom energy drink from my trunk. As soon I was dolled up, I put on Goa Syndrome followed by Alienapia, and yup folks you guessed it, circa 97 or 98//some of the best electronic creme-de-la-cremed old school Goa music ever concocted from the various DMT-elves' minds of white European spoiled yuppy-hippie kids in that part of India like modern day Ginsburg, Joyce, Kerouac, or Hunter G Thompson. Wait. Was it G or S? G I think... yuh G. Unless my Dunning-Kruger kicking in.

I am zooming through PCH and zoning. I take the 5 soon and go towards Oceanside past Carlsbad and San Clemente and past San Juan Capsitrano. The moonlit drive by the calm sussurous waves of the Pacific ocean was an irreplicable high. Of course, this wasn't my first time at San Diego. Last time I made a brief stop there whilst returing from TJ with a 'friend'. Again in a late-hour adventure.

The San Diego trip was boring. Nothing to write home. Just the flashy downtown, the dumb stadium - baseball I think- alpha black guys tryna get some booty whilst white kids in a distant outre museum next to a multicultural, rather, congregation in a nautical themed vibe complete with the Ship-in-a-Bottle and Dublinesque "Old Ye Shoppe" vibe. As I stopped midway parking by car on 5 while coming back, I made sure my lights were off. So I did a double spin of the whatever-thing-you-call-it. As I casually rolled another blunt with my goa music on at that moment I still didn't realize what I got myself onto. I get out of my car and stash away the marijuana neatly in the back of my trunk, like a responsible marijuana-guy like I am supposed to, and then by the curb I light up my blunt. What a majestic view! The scenary of Bellagio from triumphant Ocean's 11 crew resonated! The marble colored absolutely gorgeous waxing gibbous of the moon like eye of a Scops owl from heavensdown and azimuth-affixed, I relished the moment and slowly took inhale after inhale completely forgiving myself and my mother for not telling me about my settlement check.

As I returned to the car I realized the phone battery died when I turned on the car. And it automatically defaulted the annoying KISS FM which I changed to annoying Power106 to rather annoyingly annoying Real 92.3. God. As my luck would have it my phone was at 1%. I mean theoretically I could buy a cable. A charging USB cable for 15 bucks from next Chevron or Shell by Oceanside. But why bother? I knew this place like the back of my hand.

And then it happened. My car sputtered. The radio crackled which already had bad hissy-ness and 'wash' thanks to being far-afraid from LA - as all stations are in LA-- wait do I need to explain myself that <--? I mean now I am annoying not only my phone is dead but my car too. And then I diagnosed why. I left the lights on. By mistake while trying to check if they are off, I overcorrected and turned it on, actually by 'spinning that whatever-thing-you-call-it'.

Okay calm down. I self-talked. Calm the F down. We just need to stay on 5. Rest is easy-peasy. But how the hell am I gonna jump start it? And then I realized the horror. I left my wallet home. All night I was driving with no license, no credit card, no debit card... if a cop pulled me over, not only my car would be towed, but I would be fucked for life.

And not only that but that I cannot even call my tow-truck but also the fact that even if I somehow charged my card which I cannot do that as I don't have money but that I even if I did that I would need to show my license to the driver.

As we say in the netherparts of Basque region: WE ARE ROYALLY FUCKED

I mean what on god's syzygy is that even possible. So I, like a cheapskate bum and hobo, the same ol' ones whom I personally judged in San Diego, get my hiker's thumb up. 1 hour passed by. 2 hours. Not a single soul stopped. I don't even know what time it was but almost morning. Suddenly I realized I didn't eat for 6 hours. I am hungry and cold - cuz around dawnish time by the beach - yes by the VERY FUCKIN Pacific Ocean - it is chilling. Absolutely high AF windchill factor. I didn't even feel like striking up a blunt. I started walking and then as if ill-luck didn't have enough bullying I stumbled and fell down.

Never mind the scratch. It's my glasses. My fuckin glasses that shattered into halves. I picked up the two pieces of one that remained intact and tried to hold them together and patch against the frame but they fell as I stepped on...and onto the next rock again falling. I can't make this work. I still need to either get a tow truck, or pan handle enough money to buy a charger or.. oh God. I don't know. I can't even think. I mean even if I coughed up 15$ for the charger, where the...where on..hold on...WHERE THE FUCK WOULD I EVEN CHARGE IT, Zeeshan? Jeez.

I was going straight from frying pan to not a neanderthal firecamp but straight into the gaping void of a fuckin volcano as an agape-struck nightingle sung her chorus out perched by a monkfruit on a distant tree. Wow. Suddenly the gravity of it hit all as well as to rub it the irony of driving a brand new 2025 Audi. Wow. Dude. Wow. You really out did yourself. I told myself. I overfucked me this time. I took a little more of the of bufo as the Westerner yuppies would say on toad venom.

Goddamnit/Goddamnit fuckin Zeeshan. I don't know which one I-uttered so I kept the both reference. I dawdled more completely out of energy as I pissed by a Argentine fountaingrass shrub. Not only I pissed but I was pissed off and then I realized how sleep deprived I was. Visionless, bankrup, with no access to a working vehicle, I stagger onwards. I feel cold. I was homeless. Suddenly I realized I was in the middle of nowhere and I stopped hearing car-screams for a long time, or was it the whooshes? Yeah that's right. Cars don't scream here in America. Only in your thirdworld country like yourself. Why was I so judgemental? Why was I so caustic like a bitter critic and a caustic critic of an inner chamber led by the chorister of Woody Allen in my theater de'absurd of the mind?

Hmm...

I collapsed. I was lucky to have help called on that day by a good Samaritan because just before I collapsed, hungry, bitter, and cold, all I could remember was that how dearly I craved for was a single sip of water. I gazed far at the distance of the waters and my vision became increasingly blurry.

"Water, water everywhere, but not a single drop to drink...."

The rhyme of the ancient Mariner haunted me. Except there was no albatross. I realized I wasn't the one testing godlike ability on a poor bum. Rather, it was an angel that was sent early on to test if I really appreciated the value of the basics of life. 

Disclaimer: Aforesaid is completely ficitonal. LOL!