Two Stories about Drugs

Once I was in Seattle on a road trip with my friend Benji. We went to a park that ran along the bay. I got distracted looking at some sculptures and rocks on the beach, but I eventually kept walking to see that Benji had found a bench looking over the bay and had sat down. He had company with him. I walked over and saw that the man was having quite the in-depth conversation with Benji, although about what I couldn’t tell. The man was unshaven and lacked a jacket, but he didn’t immediately strike me as homeless. Benji gave me a look. I said “Hey Benji, you ready?” “Yeah, let’s go.”

As we walked away, Benji developed a small smirk that slowly grew bigger. “What?” I said. Benji gave me another look. “He said to watch out for the crabs.”

“The crabs?” I said.

“Yeah he said the crabs are everywhere so watch out.”

“Ahuh. Well that’s nice of him to warn us.”

“And he also told me I was a nice tree. That’s good because I think I would make a nice tree.”

 

It was afternoon when I sat down on a bench in Union Square. I hadn’t gotten much sleep the night before and I was exhausted. Unconsciously, I let out a sigh and covered my face with my hands, massaging my facial skin zone. I closed my eyes and just sat for a moment.

“Are you alright?” said a lady I just then noticed was sitting next to me on the bench.

“Oh yeah I’m fine. I’m just really tired is all.”

“That man is overdosing.”

“What?”

“That man is overdosing.”

She pointed past me at a man on the next bench over. He was slumped on his side, mumbling incoherently. His drool-covered chin glinted in the sun.

I looked back at the woman. She looked at me, expecting me to say something.

“Oh, yup. Yes he is.”

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