140 – SILLYSAURUS ON PSYCHEDELICS 5

Noticing that Daisy had finished her Beaver Duck, Margot asked if she wanted another. The girl gratefully accepted, saying, “Yes, please and thank you, Miss Margot.”

“I may want to score some of that acid,” the guru said, only half jokingly.

“Really? You do acid?”

“Not for almost thirty years, and I never tripped like you did, just now, but once upon a time I was young and wild.”

“I bet you were! And I bet you still got a lotta wild left in you.”

Contemplating whether or not she was still wild at heart, and wondering just how wild she could get, again, if she were to take another walk on the wild side, Margot said, “Most people tend to live their lives vicariously, when they get old. I think a lot of people have kids because they run out of ideas. They just succumb to the banal minutia of the social contract. It’s all so tedious, so mundane, that they have kids to kill the boredom of it all.

“So, first they live through their children, as they go through the motions, doing not much more than paying the bills. Then they live vicariously through their grandchildren. Then they die.

“The irony is that they laugh that youth is wasted on the young, but they never even attempt to be young and wild again, if they ever were young and wild.

“If they didn’t do wild things when they were young, they ain’t gonna do them when they’re old. Actually, if they didn’t do wild things when they were young, they don’t even know what wild is, except that it’s scary.

“They’re too scared. They say that they are older, and wiser, too wise to be wild. They do understand that wisdom comes with scars, but they don’t understand that laughter removes wrinkles.”

“Wow, Miss Margot! Just wow! You’re wise, and wild, too. I would love to do acid with you.”

“It’s an enticing offer, Daisy. If I ever do acid, or any other psychedelic, again, I would love to have the honour of tripping with you. I might be able to make a tether between us, before we dose, that’s strong enough to keep us together, so we could have the same trip, or at least share the same trip, while both experiencing it in our own ways.”

Almost squealing, Daisy said, “Oh, Miss Margot, that would be so cool. I’d do that with you anytime, anywhere.”

“I’ll think on it, Daisy. I really will. So, the thunder that the dragon made when he was turning the Holy Shit guys into gay toads, that was the real thunder that’s happening outside, and that’s when you came back?”

Pondering, Daisy said, “I don’t know. Maybe. But there was more. I don’t know if I’m telling these stories in order, ‘cause they kinda all just ran together, almost as if they were happening at the same time, if you know what I mean.”

“I do know what you mean, Daisy. Eating psychedelics isn’t the only way to get outside the mind and body, so I do know what you’re talking about.”

“I bet you do.”

“So, you had more adventures.”

“I sure did.”

“Tell me.”

Well, I was a horse doctor.”

“A vet?”

“Yes. And no. I was a vet, but I was a horse.”

“Of course of course,” Margot chuckled.

“And I was a witness in the Nazi trials.”

“At Nuremberg?”

“Yes. Nuremberg. They were asking me what was wrong with Hitler. And I told ‘em, ‘Hitler had horse herpes. Himmler gave then to him.’”

“Hitler had horse herpes, and Himmler gave them to him?”

“Yeah, ‘Hitler had horse herpes. Himmler gave them to him,’ is what I told ‘em.”

“How did you know Hitler had horse herpes, and Himmler gave them to him?”

“I guess it’s just one of those things you know, when you’re a horse.”

“Of course, of course. And what did they say?”

“Nothing. They didn’t say nothing, ‘cause then I was playing poker.”

“With a bunch of Nazis? Or a bunch of other horses?”

“No, neither. Totally different. This may have been the weirdest of them all. I was playing poker. I was playing Samurai poker, with a harem of lepers, before the hillbilly orgy started.

“’There are no holidays for the damned,’ said I, when I drew the Ace of Hades.

“The cannibal exorcist, who was sipping a tsunami of swill, got mad, and said, ‘You’ll burn!

“I ignored his warning, and carried on with my bluff, ‘A harvest of hokum i hold in my hand,’ I said, pretending that I was contemplating capitulation, which I for sure, wasn’t, ‘cause I knew I could bluff ‘em all under the table.

“The girl beside me, a three dressed up as a nine, the prophet of purloined narcissism, said, ‘My jalapeno champagne enema’s gonna trump that,’ but I knew she didn’t have no jalapeno champagne enema in her hands. She’d have pushed all in, rigt off the flop, if she was holding pocket jacks. She may be able to bluff drunk guys, in dark bars, that she’s a beauty, but she ain’t got no poker face when she’s sitting at the table.

“Then the Listerine gargoyle across the table started running his stupid mouth. ‘As will this Beavis and Butthead Bukkake Buffet of mine,’ he laughed. But he wasn’t foolin’ no one, with that jive. Everyone knew he didn’t have no Beavis and Butthead Bukkake Buffet. Hell, he wouldn’t even know a Beavis and Butthead Bukkake Buffet if he had one, ‘cause he didn’t even know what it is. He just heard real players taking about the fabled hand, when he was watching the World Series of Poker on the Internet with his gargoyle buddies, and dreaming about having one of them bracelets.

“That’s when I figured out they were all cheating. ‘Phuk Yu,’ I yelled, hailing my barrister. ‘You’re all dealing from the bottom of the deck!’

“Then the Minister of Eternal Taxation got all pissy, ‘Gno, phuk yu,’ he yelled, summoning his serpentine solicitor, who said to me, ‘You, Madame, are hiding the joker in your rectum, and that card will never be played.’

“’Now that would be a shitty hand,’ I protested to no avail.

“Then they all pulled on latex gloves, and demanded a cavity search. They’d found me out, Miss Margot, and called my bluff. There was only one thing left for me to do, so I did it

“I fingered the button under the table, and in waltzed my monkey, with his flame thrower, and a jar of Maker’s Mark BBQ sauce.

“Well, my monkey didn’t take no more than ten seconds to torch the lot of their sorry asses.

“’Another Gordie Howe hat trick,’ I cackled, high-fiving my smiling, sinister simian, while reaching for a box of stainless steel tooth picks.

“My monkey he just turned to the TV camera, smiled and said, ‘That’s why it’s called home ice advantage, kids.’”

141 – GABBA GABBA GOTCHA 4

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