The following night Natasha tries again this time with video streamed to an archive in the clouds. The night starts off the same, I get sucked into the alley and the smell of egg-foo-young, witness the illegal left turn and find Natasha with Cassandra; and once again, for the first time, like it was the last time; follow the caravan out to the Psychiatric wing of County Jail; documenting the entire process all the way from the alley to the locked gates.

But this time as erratic commercial programming became too intolerant I don’t go home but find myself on the top floor ward of the Jose Delgado Psychiatric Hospital. I’m fairly familiar with parts of this wing’s layout, as I’ve had to assist the pre-mature release of Wizkey on more than one occasion.

After what seemed like hours performing ninja-style surveillance; all while trying to blend into a white-out environment complete with piped-in binaural beats to encourage confusion.., I go unnoticed by authority.., concealed by Kuji Kiri hypnotics.., or just typical hospital policy.., invisibility goes to waste with no eyes watching.., except of those doped-to-toast; figure me a vision..,

And I’m approached by a group of guys in hospital issue, wanting to know if I was working tonight. I think I recognize one of them as the guy in the striped boxers and t-shirt, and why the fuck would I want to work tonight; when I hear tortured echoes from the lock-up behind the blackest of shadows where they house Truth with the criminally insane, including R&D for sick fantasy; and I say..,

“Sure I’m working tonight.”

And I’m pulled along with them, seemingly seconds later, to a warehouse in the middle of nowhere. And there are others there already pulling orders, boxing and shipping product. Tonight it is cases and cases of electronic cigarettes, vape kits, sleek tanks and killer coils; including a wide variety of the most popular e-liquids and hi-demand juices. Popcorn Puff’s kit comes with a free handbag.

After a couple hours of stocking shelves then rescued by a roach coach break where I got the dirt from a drunken security guard addicted to intrigue; and now my back is killing me, I feel it’s time to go home; but now I can’t. I’m stuck, locked-in to a reality loud enough to quiet the screaming whispers of doubt; a reality too many buy into to escape…,

My intent is deficient. I panic. They’re on to me. I escape out through shipping and receiving; and into the surrounding empty fields. I was getting too sucked in.., I needed to get away and maybe/hopefully regain needed energy for the return trip. But that ain’t happening as I now see the headlights of four-wheel drive camouflaged jeeps; tricked with swiveling, retina scalding spotlights; scanning the empty night, looking for me - the escapee.

I’ve been spotted; and with automatic weapons drawn, they are closing in. Running so hard I don’t think I’ll be able to run anymore; but I must not concede, must not surrender; couldn’t live with that - fucking employment - just run till I drop, could be my next step is my last.., getting dizzy, about to fall-out.., about to puke.., I don’t give myself up to them; but do give myself up; and..,

Now I’m walking down the street just having a think. When a snake of a guy gave me an evil wink. He shook me up, he took me by surprise. He had a pickup truck and the devil's eyes. He stared at me and I felt a change.., Time meant nothing.., Let's do the time warp again!

And I’m thinking back to the time in catholic high school with Brother Octavio, who taught Religion and spoke in Tongues; introduced us to self-hypnosis..,

I was transported back to ST. Dominic High; and it’s always the smell that hits you first..,

But the classroom is darkened and empty except for.., Octavio coming at me with crazy lust in his eyes.

And now I was, once again, face to face with the truth beyond exploitation, and gingivitis..,

So if I had it to do all over again.., I would have to do it.., all again.

But this time I knowingly hold control over people’s lives, Octavio or Tommy Allen; including who the hell am I, cause if I’m not the guy that knew the guy.., It’s not like before when I was ignorant.., I now knew the consequences of my actions; do nothing Tommy Allen hangs himself till dead or do something and all of Brother Octavio is destroyed.

It’s one thing to unknowingly do something that leads to morbid consequence so you can say;

“How the hell was I to know..,”

A plea all know won’t work in traffic court but valued as a loop-hole to negotiate with the prosecutor of eternal damnation.

"But to knowingly..,"

Natasha would want to work “diminished capacity.”

“But thou shalt not kill.., is what they say.”

Thou shalt not kill; a top of the charts, top ten commandment – international best seller - made unconditional for our convenience; but what about when conditions become.., inconvenient. Octavio is a pederast that grows snakes; Tommy Allen is married with two kids; if I don’t kill the one, I kill the other – damned if I do damned if I don’t.

Tommy Allen dies; I’m free to be, as before, the guy I knew, everyone knew, as the guy who knew the guy; but I cannot be known as the guy who kicked Brother Octavio in the balls.., and remain free. Like a wealthy super-hero, except broke; my valiant contribution would have to remain a secret; and who can build a façade on that; escape the suffering of a debilitating identity crisis.

What if there is no heaven, hell, re-incarnation or karma.., and the science is all a lie.., where’s my purpose.., how was I to justify my existence; except from behind bars.., set myself free to find myself imprisoned.., fuck that.., Tommy Allen lives, I die.

Now Brother Octavio is almost on top of me.., Trying to hold-on, steady my nerves. It's astounding, time is fleeting, madness takes its toll, not for very much longer.., I've got to..,

But can I knowingly kill another? A final judgment I’ll have to live with for the rest of my life.., and is there really a choice.., this is not of my own making..,

I've got to keep control.., fucking self-defense.., escape from this goddamn fraternal freak-shit hellhole.., But this time, and once again, I would not just run away.., cause if I’m to be damned, then I will have to play..,

No longer confused there really is nothing to choose. It's so dreamy, oh fantasy free me. I can’t just flee; it’s there, my destiny. I can see all.., dude’s about to take a fall. And with a bit of a mind flip, I’m there in the time slip..,

And the guy who knew the guy is already dead.., never was alive. Now I understood something Wizkey had said.., words without disguise.., and the lies.., no doubt plagiarized;

“Become a nobody but nobody else to become somebody and not just somebody else..,”

Or something like that..,

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The spell is broken and I’m back on the couch with Natasha.

“How many times you going to watch this?”

“Thank god, I thought I lost you for good.”

“You rented it.., again?”

“I don’t know why you just don’t buy it.”

“What’s going on?”

“You disappeared from the car. Figured you’d return here like last night. But..,”

“Why couldn’t you just find me in the cards like you did before?”

“It’s too close now, things grow dark real quick, best not go there.”

“So how..,”

“I even sent Janice out but that didn’t work. So I took a long-shot thinking a connection had been established; I rented The Rocky Horror Picture Show, again, and brought you back with that.”

“Sure you’re right.., We need to call the cops.”

“I can’t believe what I’m hearing.”

“You’re hearing it right Natasha; we’re gonna call the police.”

I tell Natasha of my findings; on how this group of white suits kidnaps and drugs unsuspecting cigarette smokers; hacked from the privacy policy of redeemed dollar-off coupons; they traffic them, without identification, to the Jose Delgado Psychiatric Wing of County Jail and admit them as John Doe’s for observation; which nobody escapes from; diagnosed for an indeterminate stay; and financing, diverted from State compensation, to the white suits working on commission, fuel the operation.

“That’s crazy.”

“On call astral bodies mesmerized by the DMT cocktail treatment are remotely controlled by the white suits; who are themselves commanded by lizard-brain billionaires lacking higher function; steering the detainees into slave labor contracts including shipping, receiving and janitorial duties..,“

“I was afraid someone would work that out. Exploiting a collective construct.  Rich billionaires are such sick fools.”

“You mean, unlike, poor billionaires?”

“What?”

“Anyway, these guys work all night in the warehouse when they could create and share any reality they wish. They could’ve turned the big-box warehouse into a casino with slot machines paying-out sugar-coated lap-dances. But they just work the shelves never taking it into consideration.”

“Unbelievable.”

“Unbelievable is right.., cause nobody’s going to believe it.”

“They’re primarily able to pull this off because no one believes it could be real.”

“The public will consider the idea complete nonsense and we’ll be discredited.”

“Our sins exposed and worst.., Who knows what they got on you.”

“Fuck em’.., ain’t got shit on me.., I no longer fear their bullshit.., go ahead.., expose me. But even still, people can’t see what they don’t expect, or want, to see.”

“So we have to call the police.., bust their ass.”

“Like I said, the cops can’t handle this.”

“But you said..,”

“Yeah, we’ll call them.., call them on something we know they can handle; something they can track down without too much collateral damage..,”

“Like what?”

“A traffic violation.”

An anonymous tip was called into Central Division, co-signed by a link to a time-stamped YouTube video; exposing a conspiracy to flagrantly exploit traffic laws.

A SWAT Team, MRAP, and squadron of armed ticket-book wielding meter-maids, in riot-gear, were deployed and able to take down and ticket the caravan; with just under three-hundred rounds fired; as it illegally turned left out the alley and onto Main just south of Fifth, costing the ambulance a tire and Wonton Jon’s a window.

The damage done including traffic fines, LOL Online Traffic School and court costs were, alone and by themselves, more than enough to bust the operation; that’s not even counting the ambulance without a current smog certificate or insurance on out-of-state plates.., and then there’s obstructing justice, together with conspiracy charges and separate financing fees followed by..,

------------------------------------

As closing credits credit those behind-the-scenes; I’m laid back on the couch, head propped just enough to see the T.V.; make-up, camera, sound.., assistants to the assistants; but I don’t care;  I reflect, looking for lessons to be learned or just to be clear; light a cigarette, stare down at my feet and think..,

I remember doing the Time Warp - Drinking those moments – When the Blackness would hit me and the Void would be calling..,

And maybe it is time - beyond time - make the commitment to buy – invest in - a copy of; The Rocky Horror Picture Show.