Day 6

I felt horrible this morning, the worst I’ve ever felt.
Like you drank all the tequila in Mexico bad, but without having the pleasure of drinking anything.
I tried every pain killer in the medicine cabinet and finally, late in the afternoon, I can’t take it anymore.
I dig out the card the doctor gave me and I google the address.  I got nothing to lose at this point so I head out.
I drive over to the address and am surprised it’s a Mortuary.
It doesn’t say it’s a Mortuary on the card, it’s just an address.  I’m like “WTF” and I look at the card for some insight? Did I grab the wrong card?  Is this a joke.  A fucking cruel joke?
I flip the card over and there is a handwritten note that reads:
“After 5 Use Rear Entrance.  Only come between 5 – 6.  Only Use Rear Entrance”
I walk around to the rear entrance and I this place is huge.  It looks like it was an old house, some rich fuckers house at some point in time.  It seems to take up an entire block.  Around back there’s this little alley way, street thing.  The back is enclosed by a big stone wall and a giant iron gate.  I try to open the gate but it’s locked.  There’s an intercom and I press the button but I think it’s broken because it doesn’t make a sound and no one answers.
I check the time – it’s 5:44  Dammit.  I look through the gate.  I yell out like a moron “Anybody back there?”
There’s all kinds of nice landscaping and trees, but it looks spooky as heck.  More like a graveyard than a back yard.  The sun is going down.
5:47.  Today’s the last day to get treatment so fuck it.  I climb over the gate, almost impaling my ball sack on those pointy iron bars at the top.  This causes me to fall parallel to the ground with I’m sure a loud thud.  I don’t know if it made a thud because it knocks me the fuck out.  When I come to, I’m confused.  Look around and then oh shit, check the time.  5:57.
I get up and stagger to the door.  I almost don’t knock.  The door doesn’t look right.  Fuck.  One minute left to get my meds, however fucked up they are.
I knock and the door jerks open immediately.
A tall black man wearing a dashiki and dreads down to his ass exclaims “White boy, I’ve been watching yo ass fiddle around out her like a little pussy for the past 15 minutes.  What you want, mon?”  He takes a hit off a large marijuana cigarette
I must have stammered because, he says in the biggest reggae voice “HE LISTS DIFFERENT TYPES OF POT HERE”
He blows the smoke in my face.
I’m like no, I’m here for the pre-z meds.  I was told…
And he’s like “Ah mon, I got what you need” He waves the smoke away from my face apologetically.
“So you’re not a little white boy, you’re a little dead boy”
I’m not dead.
“You will be if I can’t help you”  he laughs.
 have to find the notebook with the rest of this post in it… stand by

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