Real Strange Vibes Volume 10 by Al Calm (rainbow fish read aloud TXT) 📕

fried some memory drift deep in side in me mind. I think the effects of various organics, mainly LSD, which was probably good though all the shrooms made me shit n giggle. I shit everywhere in that little bog at this basement club under a sandwich shop near Star Lane. Havin' a wicked time though, some legend lets Donovan 'Badboy' Smith's Obsession rip, hardly any drops it these days. Vinyl too. It not a bad vibe here, way it goes – forget the shitty world, but you usually forget the great people.

 

But I know, I'm juzz driftin', flowin'. Can't beat nah system, goin' wiv any old flow! Yeah, I look at the cracks in me wall, shitty plaster peelin' - real old woodchip paper peelin', moulded up, makes me feel like I'm rottin' too. Everythin' falls apart but I think: have I got enough pills to keep me happy fer a week? I dunno. It depends on what kinda week I'm havin'. As long as I can drink, have a puff n get me pills, I'm all cool. I love it, juzz when yer havin' a tight week: shit, get fear I might have to get a shitty temp job, I dunno if I can handle it. I hear the horror stories from Amazon, I can't pick three hundred and fifty plus orders in a hour. I'm too pickled to do it though I'm not only stressed in some shitty zero hour number, I'm always worse off, always feel like workin' fer fuck all. Fuckin' some jobsworth media blowhard tellin' yer gonna be so much better off bustin' some shit payer, like thirty pee better off after inflation – even though those hypocrites blatantly on fuckin' shitloads! Some posh fuckers in Parliament don't even think they get paid much! Trust man, it's a total con of a shit system. I can't get me head around whole scam society hustle, all stressed to death tryin' to get rich, stressed to death tryin' to stay rich! It a weird old cycle, I don't get shit. Juzz as well as I've really got into DMT. I can't tell if it real Ayahuasca, I'm too pickled. It could be paint stripper, it all good. I juzz pissed through the council tax money but they can sit n spin, buzz so fuckin' worth it. Fuckin' pricey but time man - there's nothin' like space time.

 

I dropped two blue Punishers earlier - both snapped in half, can be tricky getting' triangle pills down whole - then had a shitload more of this synthetic DMT, me stomach growlin', not had a shit in a week – trust, like there's a fuckin' mad turd alien in there tryin' to burst out! Sure be a proper fuckin' trippy turd! Like when you come up on a E while you take a huge dump! I was thinkin' I'd talk to God more, I'm juzz pleased that DMT not cut with Scopie, fuck glassy eyed seizure chattin' to alien love gods. Fuckin' love all these kinda research chemicals about now. Gonna be gettin' some 2CB later – is it really 2CB, fuck it's me fave trippy kinda mandy. Don't mind pentylone either I dig that I'm juzz rollin'. I dunno what I'm doin'.Hear me battered Mini Pop cheapo smart phone go off in me pocket, I can't focus on it anyway, fuckin' touchscreens so much easier when I had a fuckin' cheapo brick!

 

I must've done powder mandy n too many pills, black out real bad, get back to Earth, on a real random wigged out mosey in Colindale, only know a few people round Burnt Oak, it where I kinda been chillin' since I dropped out as a student. Well, kinda dropped outta every fuckin' piece o' shit. Yeh bang on, I 've done shitloads of shitty jobs but I can't really be fucked anymore, you get me? Been like it for time, though always some cool shit around, kids feed me gear – all kinda messy synthetics.

 

Shit, I can't even be fucked to go around me seven eleven n get some milk. I see Jackson Fraction all the time. He like some kinda homeboy squat raver, he all over town, all about Blighty. People tell me, I can see Jackson Fraction but they know he been dead for time, like back in the day. But I'm sure he real.

 

Jackson tells me: Yeh Chazz, I go ravin' everywhere, anywhere. Blag a ticket, guestlist, find out about an illegal, whatever. I got kids in shit-loadsa towns, lotsa places. I gotta watch it, I always pop in n say hi now n then, it lucky I juzz fuck around wiv real strong hippy chicks, they know what I'm like anyway! I bet yer missus knows what yer like Chazzie!

 

Gets me laughin'. I never thought of it like it. Women are much wiser. Me missus had enough of me time ago,been a fuckhead for years now. Jackson keeps mumbling takes out a huge bag of powder, pink ket, looks gnarly.

I kinda zone out, see little gremlins. I wonder if I paid any rent again, but then I know my overdraft proper rinsed out. I don't really care nowadays, I always seem to scrape by n blag shit.

 

Jackson keeps on gassin': Yeh, done too much truth serum to lie. Wanna do all this pink ket? Sucha fuckin' fuckhead Chazz, welcome to our never endin' ruffride, it's all cool – a motherfuckin' real stone groove! I know dig bein' a good person n hate upsettin' people, neg out vibes. I know it, I can see it in those fucked up eyes, Chazz!

 

I juzz kinda laugh n chuckle, that synthetic DMT fuckin' wivme reality, roll up a spicey SK combo, fuckin' Spice n Skywalker skunk gets you day trippin'. Drooling, drink a Supermalt, got cheap vodka in. Tastes real grody – can I still say it? I'm a kid of the Eighties after all. Still down it all.

 

Jackson sorta appeared outta nowhere – fuck, he always does it! I ain't sure of shit. Lost me fuckin' phone again, fucked screen anyways. Me mind totally fucked. Did I say, people I know keep sayin' I keep seein' Jackson though he's been dead for years, he meant to have did too much, all those yellow SpongBob's n pink Red Bulls what got him; too many synthetics, too much too much!

Sure gots to be seizure trippin' mind rippin' real rockin' n rollin' - juzz gotta lurve rushin'! RUSHIN' EVERYDAY! Trip tastic rushin', bubbly brain, always spazzin' - FUCKIN' SPAZZERZ! You know, I'm sure Jackson real, I'm... Well, I speak to anyone n everyone. They all reckon I'm nuts anyway!

 

Always cracks me up to be honest, it way it goes. Still waitin' on an full on neural aura wave - juzz me feelin' it? Fer real? Where everythin' goes colourful n jumpy? Sure expect get some shakes in end, I'll get wasted again to sort em out. Always a drug on yer side! It me way, cheap as chips. Get some change, spend a tenner max on synths then feel like fuckin' Escobar. Some pills cheaper than two quid, some only fuckin' twenty-five pence, whatta mad un! Nah, don't mind at all, it all pentylone madness for me! Feel real, I dunno.

 

Wake up in a pool of vomit, in some kinda boho chick bedroom. Pixie girl appears in front of me, hair in bunches.

You were funny last night, she tells me.

H-h-h-h-huuuuuh? I kinda all stutterin', it kinda feels real though me puke smells real.

 

Pixie Girl whispers into my ear: I really like you, Chazz. My wife'll be back in a bit - we'll have a threesome.

 

Man, I gotta be trippin'. Tell me now I'm in a station bog, tryin' climb through the mirror again. I can't see any white rabbits, either. Everyone looks at you like all Whaddafook? But no Rasta Joe Dolce impressions here, gone all techno bonehead, I can't think.

 

Pixie Girl smiles, got braces, she got a kimono on, real tiny feet with day-glo toenails. I can't even remember how we met. Must've been a messy one.

You can stay here on me sofa, the shower and tub are upstairs on the left.

Cool, cool. Cheers, I mumble.

You look sooo spaced out babe, gone orbital - I'll put the kettle on.

Ain't got any whisky about? I feel like shit. I'll have it in a coffee if it cool.

Yeah, sure, we got some somewhere. Seems whisky got all cool again?

Let's roll one, I'm feelin' it. Did y'do too many Legos too?

Yeah, you had these chunky Legos. You said you had trips. You gave them to me mate; she vanished with all of them.

Yeh? Right on, I don't even remember.

 

I reckon they weren't that great though I don't mind synths now. They've fucked me up, no fucker knows what they do to people but they're fuckin' moreish! Always wanna get more! Cheap trips too, like all these synthetic pills, well under two quid, some even eighty pee from outta Dam.

I must've zoned out.

You some kinda funny dude, you're so fucked, slurs Pixie Girl.

Wha'de fuck?

I see an empty coffee cup, empty bottle of cheap whisky Jackson's winking at me. Pixie Girl sucks me cock. I can't believe it, she must be desperate, I was fucked. I clock in corner a tiny older lady, she looks like a midget Mia Wallace but she still hot. It must be Pixie Girl's wifey. She films us on a old digital camera in one hand while she films on a iphone in her other. I also clock she got a huge strap on dildo on. I got a feelin' where it goin'. I hear Jackson's mad hissin' laugh, he loves it all. Though I don't remember Jackson bein' here.

Jackson whispers to me: Ain't dead yet, Chazzie, ain't here yet – always ride out a buzz bruvva!

I zone back to some kinda reality, Pixie Girl smiles, pre-cum makes her braces shine, I'm still rock hard, I know I'm trippin' on synths, it no floppy drop. Flowers appear on the walls, Pixie Girl's wifey is crackin' up. Pixie Girl bends me over.

Jackson winks at me. Don't worry Chazz - ride it out, ride it out. Y'kinda overdosin', kinda trippin'. Don't take anymore of those synths. Lissen to me, Chazz!

It when I hear the Wobbler. Mad tune, I love it, pancake it get Rushin' the House. I'm wiggin', then Pixie Girl suckin' me cock as her Mia Wallace wifey takes a position behind me. Dildo glows, sounds of Wobbler wobble flows.

It when I zone out again – what a fucker I don't remember shit after it!

Bat Shit Trekkin'

Fuckin' hell, whatta fuckin' lockdown? Shit about some bat flu on news, flu but not fuckin' flu, don't go out but still go out to get shit you fuckin' well need, right? I ain't gotta Scooby about our world anymore, it's all a load of proper fuckin' trippy shit, what kinda reality trip gone down? It'd help if I can be fucked to watch the fuckin' news but it so dull n gloomy, always fall asleep through it all. Like TV Valium, like all that reality TV bullshit, I don't get it as it not like real porn, I guess it kinda porn lite, I still don't get it.