THEY'RE MAGICALLY DELICIOUS!

The street I live on is comprised of Hispanic lesbians, White yuppies and Black senior citizens. We all meet every other month to discuss activity and goings on the block (we refrain from calling ourselves neighborhood crime watch, but that's what it is).

The leader of the group is "Nora". She's an Hispanic butch who lives directly across the street from me. She came by to give me a flyer for our next meeting. She also had a small package.

"I just got my cannibus club card for Oaksterdam and I made a batch of magic brownies to celebrate." How in the hell does she know I indulge every now and then? I invite her in and I try to make small talk and wrap it up so she can leave. Nora is an ex-vato, East San Jose gang banger. She seems to think I want to hear about her old stories about how she used to shake down men and punk dudes twice her size. She gets so carried away that she'll start shadow boxing. It's quite a show. Anyway, she gave me a fat brownie wrapped in plastic. Nora sat on the couch and was beginning a story about how she acquired her limp. I lied and told her I had to use the bathroom and she left.

My last high experience was last summer. I was at Reggae in the Park with my brother and ex-fiance. This girl was selling magic granola balls and I bought two...Remember, I'm chubby. I ate the first one and nothing happened...Or so I thought. I was half way into the second one and I got the munchies. I walked down the long lawn to the food section and stood in the soft pretzel line. I saw a White girl having convulsions, dancing off beat to the bass guitar. I laughed so hard, I fell to the ground. A woman helped me up and I thought I was hallucinating because it was my next door neighbor. My brother and I concocted a story about her career as a stand in for the Lord of the Rings trilogy. We gave her the distinct nickname Ork, for obvious reasons. We also think she's got a bit of Predator blood in her. I grabbed my mouth to refrain from calling her our secret name. The laughing spasms come again, tears rolling down my face. She made out what was going on and walked away.

It's now my turn to order. I tell the guy I want a soft pretzel.
"I want the biggest one you have."
"They're all the same size."
"Yeah, but I want the biggest pretzel. Put some mustard on it."
"Mam, they're all the same size."
"I want that big one in the back corner."
"It's the same size as the rest of them."
"That's a nice big one. Put some mustard on it."

Every note of music sang and every dropped bass line seeped through my skin causing me to dance during the entire concert. All three of us sucked down granola balls. I don't remember getting to my car, but when we got there, we had to figure out who was the least high, so they could drive us across the bridge back home. It was me, which should give you some idea of how fucked up we were.

We get on the Bay Bridge and there was (as usual) heavy traffic. A complete stop. My body felt like the seat belt was the only thing holding me down. I was so lifted, I had to shake my head vigorously to stay focused. My brother and ex passed out, now snoring. I woke up my ex and told him he had to drive the car. I got out on the freeway, in the middle of the bridge and we switched positions. I stared at him, making sure he didn't fall asleep. We get off the bridge and he says we need to switch again. He actually stopped on the freeway...I don't mean pull over, I mean on the freeway!

We finally reached home. We stayed, stuck in that car for about five hours. We weren't alseep. We just couldn't move from being so zooted. We stayed that way until 6am. I've never gotten high again...Until tonight. The magic brownie hasn't kicked in yet, but I've no doubt it will before I fall asleep. Wait,I think it's working. Did my cat just shake her head and roll her eyes at me?