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So it didn't take long for the Tar Baby Jesus to befriend the local skater punks. It didn't take much. Just changing a couple bottles of water into cheap wine, and eventually at the request of one particularly enterprising young punk named Peter, changing oregano into really good weed. So good, in fact that the smell of it would wake me up at night whe they smoked it in the patio six stories beneath me.
Last night was one such night. It was impossible to sleep through the unholy racket they were making, so I went out and sat on the deck taking in the sights and smells. It turns out the TB Jesus was a natural skater. He already developed a number of tricks. The Accension 360 and the Virgin Birth were my favorites. I won't even try describing them. And it was always interesting to see the Tar Baby wipe out.
Suddenly, out of the thick oregano smoke fog comes an old guy wearing a bright orange robe and riding a unicycle. He's holding a slip of paper on one hand, and a sugar packet in his other. He has a bowl balanced on his head. "TB, TB" he cries, very manicly. "The world is suffering and I have the cure. Nirvana through biotech ! Better living through chemistry ! I pulled the recipe off the Internet !". He shoves the scrap of paper in TB's hand. Then he takes the bowl off his head, rips open the sugar packet, and pours it in, all the time continuing the ride around in circles on the unicycle. "Change the sugar, TB, Change it ! Change ! I beg of you !"
The skater punks stop puffing on their joints and gather round. "Fuck off Sal", Peter says. "Last time you thought you found Nirvana my aparment building rose forty feel into the air. Everyone had to use one of those damn helicopter ladders to get in or out. It caused a huge jam in the morning. I was late for school four days in a row. Try explaining that to your homeroom teacher !"
Peter's comments make no difference. The TB Jesus reads the paper, and then there's that trademark twinkle in his eye. Sal cries out in joy and drops his head into the bowl and snorts up god knows what experimental designer drug.
This is bad. Really bad. You never now what's going to happen when the Salvador Dalai Lama starts doing drugs in your neighborhood. The last time, the Metro went all Tootle on me, chasing butterflys all over the Washington area and beyond. You never knew where you would turn up. I tried going to Foggy Bottom and I ended up in Assateague four days later. The fare was over $300 !
I quickly got dressed, and hopped on a train before things got any weirder.
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