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quideck · 5 years ago

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Fun with Cacti

Jake stared at the smoldering pipe in front of him, trying not to notice the chips and cans littering the table. An exhalation of smoke carried a crumpled pretzel bag from the coffee table and onto homework he couldn’t remember blowing off. He really needed to get this room cleaned up. He also really needed to study for Instrumental Analysis.

Instead of pursuing either activity, Jake packed himself another bowl and pulled out his laptop. He had been reading Physical Chemistry all morning, and the test in Instrumental Analysis was not for a whole twenty hours. A quick Netflix break never hurt anyone. Besides, Jake assumed he was learning to do analysis with instruments (or whatever) by working in a campus lab part-time. Maybe he would even watch Cosmos and pretend to supplement his science education. Neil DeGrasse always did sound a little more engrossing when he personified lax study habits.

With the Cosmos theme soaring in the background like the stoner-bait he knew it to be, Jake got his Sunday routine started. Moseying from the couch to the living room’s central window, Jake opened the blinds and was greeted by pleasantly gray skies. Smiling at Portland’s version of a nice day, Jake turned around and began to pick up the clutter he had played a large part in creating. Jake was familiar enough with weed and Netflix to know he would have the room acceptably neat in a few minutes, without actually having to think about cleaning. By the time the episode was halfway done, Jake had moved from the living room to the kitchen and turned his attention from trash to a precariously tall sandwich. Dagwood had been a hero of Jake’s since childhood, and food-Jenga was a storied pastime.

With the help of another packed pipe, Jake finished his sandwich and his episode. Pulling up the study guide for the test, Jake noticed that he sort-of-recognized every topic. As far as studying the day before went, that was a solid start. Tabbing back to Netflix, Jake also noticed that the upcoming Cosmos episode was on Earth’s great extinctions, an undeniably awesome subject. Jake checked his schedule to verify that studying for the next day’s test was his only goal for the day, and then checked his pill bottle for more weed. It was noon on a Sunday; Jake had time to relax a little.

One episode would leave plenty of time to study.

…

By 5 p.m., Jake had watched two and a half episodes of Cosmos and reached a dangerous level of confidence in his ability to analyze instruments. Jake needed to score higher on this test than he had the last, or he would have to retake Instrumental Analysis. Retaking one class might mean being pushed back a whole semester. Jake pulled up the list of required classes for Chemistry majors, took a hit of his pipe, and reassured himself that he could pass this class. After all, he had passed three semesters of Calculus – instruments must be easier than integrals.

A knock on his door accompanied his roommate, Allen, and the door swung open.

“Lock’s still broken, good sir.” Allen’s face was lit up like the Grinch stealing Christmas.

Jake had heard Allen getting up a few hours earlier, but had been telling himself he was actually studying and stayed in his room. Jake had heard the blender running, and assumed he would hear stories of a new smoothie recipe that evening. Seeing Allen for the first time at 5 in the evening was not unusual. Allen entering Jake’s room with two red solo cups, however, was quite strange.

Allen set the cups down on Jake’s desk with a sickening plop and a diplomat’s toothy smile. Jake stared at the thick, green liquid sloshing around the cups. It looked like someone had left green Jell-O out in the sun and mixed it with orange juice. Jake avoided comparing the cups’ contents to snot. He had a growing feeling that he would be drinking one of those cups, and he did not want to drink snot.

Jake looked at his laptop, read the personal motto he had saved as his wallpaper after a fateful night Freshman year. Remembering that Allen had played a primary role in composing the message, Jake suppressed a grin with a grimace. Then he looked back to Allen.

“What’s up, man?”

“What are you studying for?” Allen’s smile grew wider as he asked the question. Jake realized the bastard had watched him glance at the screen, knew that Allen had the same test tomorrow. Allen was here to act as Cosmos in the extreme.

“Same test you have tomorrow, dude.” Jake sensed his voice did not hold enough energy. He could hear his own protests faltering in their conviction.

“Screw Instruments, dude. Let me tell you about these cups.” Allen had already sat down on Jake’s bed, and was gesticulating in the wild manner that he and Jake used to convince each other of especially exciting mistakes. These cups would be good.

“This is a hot-water extract of San Pedro cactus, man. That shitty cactus that Jason down the street was trying to get rid of, you know? Well that plant is chock-full of mescaline, dude!” Jake did remember Allen walking into the apartment with chunks of dismembered cactus last week. He had not questioned it, as Allen’s unusual activities had ways of benefitting his roommates. Now Jake knew what the cactus was for, and why the blender had been running.

“Can’t. Test tomorrow, Allen.” Even as Jake erected his flimsy defenses, he remembered all of the times he had arrested Allen’s studying. When Jake’s bike was stolen the night before their General Chemistry exam, Allen had helped him contact friends and find a temporary replacement. When Jake’s 21st birthday fell the day before their Organic Chemistry test, Allen made sure the party was wild, and that the birthday boy woke up in time to get to school. Jake knew Allen was enough of a genius to pass his tests even with such distractions, but the favors and camaraderie still lingered.

“Cali Weekend, bro!” Cali Weekends were a stupid tradition in which Jake and Allen would do new drugs the weekend before important tests. Somehow neither of them had ever flunked these exams, and a superstition had taken strong hold of them both.

“Besides, I have the same test tomorrow, Jake. We’ll study towards the come down, it’ll cement our understanding! We can dose in our apartment and then have a nice trip through Washington Park, then come back to science! We’ll have a Vision Trip, man! We’ve never done mescaline, what if we meet Mescalito!? It’ll be the greatest hike ever!”

Allen’s speech was moving in its familiarity. Jake had heard something similar last year, when he and Allen visited San Diego with a few fellow Juniors. Jake had planned to skip his friends’ final day of beach frivolity to study for a Cell Biology test. This idea was dashed to the sandy shore when Allen presented Jake with three tabs of 2C-I and a bowl of DMT. Familiar with neither substance, Jake had somehow rationalized doing drugs as tangential to studying. Allen helped Jake lose his inhibitions and worries on that beach; Jake scored an A- on the test when he returned home, higher than he had received on the previous test. Cali Weekends could be quite alluring.

Jake looked at his laptop background:

Make questionable decisions, and don’t question them.

Jake sighed slightly and grabbed the cup. It certainly smelled questionable.

“Cheers.”

…

Jake wandered, lost in an arboreal Oz, trying to maintain his composure and trying to stay near Allen but not trying too hard. He was amazed a city could contain such an Eden, amazed this Paradise could be contained in space at all. Allen had led him down a road less traveled, and they had found themselves in a small clearing that ached of beauty. Moonlight illuminated a central patch of grass, and some visionary park planner had erected benches hugging this sacred circle. A natural forest insulated them from the concrete jungle, presiding over the evening’s exodus, and Jake couldn’t help giggling in such a glen. Hello World!

Allen had settled directly in the moonlight, meditating like one of Tolkien’s elves. Jake had no such quietist intentions, and circled the perimeter of this new kingdom, marveling at the benches and at the plants and at The World. Though January was the depth of winter, the clearing shimmered with life and movement, drawing Jake into its vibrant ecstasy. Jake smiled, realizing the beatific awe of the trip would prevent any further studying. Alas.

Jake came to a stop when he realized the clearing really was full of movement. Climbing onto a bench, Jake got a better view of a tree swarming with numinous energy. Something about the branches seemed to be breathing, seemed to be challenging Jake to face truths as yet unsung. They appeared more Real than reality, had a feeling of presence that Jake could not shake. Jake noticed a bushy tail.

Squirrels.

Laughing wildly, Jake looked back to the breathing movement and saw rodentia exploding like flowers from the bark. Leaves, tails, and ears swayed in the wind, synchronized to some cosmic pattern eluding Jake’s erudition. Following ley lines of barely conceived organization, Jake’s eyes sought the center of this vision. Sunk in the chthonic depths of the fuzzy maelstrom sat a squirrel taller than Jake’s forearm. Unmoved in his comrade’s ecstasy, this maestro remained still in dignity. Somehow, Jake knew this squirrel to lead his scurry.

Jake stood up straight, cleared his mind, and locked eyes with Squirrel Augustus.

The entire mass of animals, a clearing of trees in arms, stood at attention.

Jake had stared into the abyss and the abyss had raised a thumb up. Jake lifted his arms like a conductor, feeling the ether of responsibility settle into his self. With an upward right slash of Jake’s arms, squirrel bodies rushed from branch to branch, the glen rippling out in the direction he had indicated. With a leftward flick of the wrist, the squirrels changed paths, the trees surged towards his new fancy. Jake wove his limbs into a dance of pointed ears and furry tails, awakening the trees to their inner dervish. The dance of the clouds and stars above mirrored the mammals below, daring Jake to confront The Absurd. Far beyond ordinary experience, he had entered the archetypically Disney. Snow White’s birds had never danced like gods.

Jake stood atop his bench, Caesarian in his mastery over park rodents, messianic in his shared existence with squirrel-kind.

…

A week later, Jake sat on the living room couch, wondering if the C+ scrawled across his ‘Analysis of Discrete Controller Systems’ test was worth communing with the universe through a scurry of squirrels. It probably was. Allen had barely managed to pass the exam, though his grades and obstinate belief in Cali Weekends could take the blow. A C+ would keep Jake’s grade high enough, assuming he studied extensively for the Instruments final. An Ochem test he had in a week was more important anyways. Jake set his test down, grabbed his piece, and lit it.

Jake stared at the smoldering pipe in front of him, trying not to notice the chips and cans littering the table. An exhalation of smoke carried a crumpled pretzel bag off the coffee table and onto homework he couldn’t remember blowing off. He really needed to get this room cleaned up. He also really needed to study for Analytical Chemistry.

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