So....
Who are you and whats your story?
The name's Eugene Ketchum. I'm an aging pleaure seeker. Originally from El Paso, but I've lived all over the place. Throughout the course of my life I've seen and done things that should make any decent human being sick.
As long as I can remember I've been obessed with acheiving an altered state of mind. When I was a kid I used to spin around in circles and beat my head against the wall all the time. Just so I could catch a quick buzz. My parents thought there was something wrong with me, so they made me see a shrink. I don't think my father ever forgave me for that. He had been saving that money to buy a new boat and my head problems fucked it all up for him. One day I even overheard him telling my mom that she should have taken me out with the coat hanger when she had the chance.
I started getting into drugs and alcohol fairly young. By the time I was 11, my friends and I were getting drunk almost everyday. My best friend Danny was the son of a penniless drunk piece of shit that was usually passed out by the time we got home from school, so we'd just drink whatever he had sitting out. Whenever he came to and saw the booze missing he just asumed that he drank it all.
When I was 13 Danny and I met this kid named Pete. Pete was a 16 year old who really liked cactus. Especially peyote. He had about 7 or 8 of 'em growing in his room. We spent most of our weekends in Pete's room eating peyote and listening to the radio. Sometimes we'd build model airplanes and shit too, but mine never got too far. I was more interested in the glue than anything.
If we didn't spend our weekend in Pete's room trippin' our balls off, we'd spend it trippin' our balls off in the desert collecting more buttons. We made a killing selling 'em to kids at school.
One day Pete told us about this really good spot that he found when he was out camping with his parents. He told us that there were hundreds of buttons, there for the taking. So that weekend we loaded up his car and drove out there. We had a case of beer, 2 dozen peyote buttons, and a chunk of opium that Danny stole out of his Grandma's jewelry box. We were straight fucked up, and it was a good thing because this little spot was way the fuck out in the middle of nowhere.
When we got there Pete told us to get the tent out of the trunk and set up camp. As soon as we got out Pete put the car in gear and pushed the accelerater to the floor, kicking a huge cloud of dust in our face.
We were out there for two days, surviving on prickly pears and a little spring that we had stumbled on. Finally that cocksucker Pete came back to get us. He was laughing and carrying on about how good he had gotten us. At that moment Danny and I looked each other in the eye. Pete would pay very dearly for this one.
Three years passed and no one spoke of the incident. We hung out with Pete every weekend like normal. By that time he had dropped out of school and gotten his own place.
A couple months after my sixteenth birthday I got my lisence and bought a car. I told Pete that I wanted to celebrate by driving to Mexico. Go to the bars, fuck some dirty hookers, standard tourist shit. He was all too excited.
That weekend we packed up my car and went on our way. We had a little bit of everything. Whiskey, morphine, carb cleaner, and tons of peyote. Me and Danny were both carrying concealed hunting knives.
On the way down Pete actually apologized to us for leaving us in the desert. He said that he was young and stupid and that he wished he could take it back. I told him that I had completely fogetton about it. Water under the bridge. Pete smiled at me contently. A smile of love and appreciation for being blessed with such great friends.
We had been driving through Mexico for several hours and Pete was starting to get uneasy. He knew we weren't going to any bars, but I think he was still holding out a little bit of hope for the hookers. Poor guy. I almost felt bad about it for a minute, but justice MUST be served.
I pulled the car onto a dirt road, drove for a few more miles and stopped. Danny and I pulled out our knives and told Pete to get out of the car.The color quickly vanished from his face. Pete knew that I wasn't one to fuck around. When he got out of the car Danny and I started beating the shit out of him. We broke his nose and made both of his eyes swell shut. He begged and pleaded with us to spare his life. It was really kind of pathetic.
After that we shoved peyote and morphine down his throat and washed it down with whiskey. We were both satisfied that Pete had learned his lesson so we got back in the car and headed home. I insisted that we leave him some water and a compass. It was the right thing to do.
We never heard from Pete again after that. Sure hope he was able to find some help.
Oh well, at least we got him good.
