Gummy Bears

Buddha had started to resemble his namesake. He had grown fat – positively rotund. Thirty odd years of tweaking had made him thin as a rake, but when he gave it up he blossomed into a beach ball. He’d had a triple bypass. Three decades of amphetamine abuse had taken its toll on his heart. He no longer partook of the old whizz. He no longer smoked – anything. He did, however, find other diversions.

“I’ve seen the future Johnny Boy and it’s in edibles.”

“Inedibles?”

“Ha fuckin’ ha. You’ll see. Every cunt will be doin’ it. Nae mair noxious fumes and carcinogens; just pure THC delight.”

“Is that what’s in them?”

“Aye, that and all the other cannabinoids. You lose most of them when ye smoke it. This way it all reaches yer brain pan and it stays there much longer.”

“Is that them? They look like sweets.”

“They are sweets; pure hash oil preserved in gelatine. They even have different flavours.”

“What do you call them then?”

“These are gummy bears.”

“Strong?”

“There’s a quarter of a gram in each. That’s enough to get ye well stoned, but two of them will fuck you up nicely.”

“I’ll have two then.”

He was right. I was pretty fucked up. I had a strawberry and an orange. I could still taste the oil though. It clung to my teeth for a bit. It wasn’t long before Buddha proffered me two more. I wolfed them down with a cup of chai. Our conversation was rambling and silly. We giggled like school boys as we enthused over the records we played. The music sounded awesome. Buddha got all philosophical. He said his brush with mortality had affected his outlook.

“Did ye ever turn yer heid a certain way and catch a glimpse of the universe spinning round ye an’ suddenly realise that you are at the centre of it all?”

“Naw.”

“Well you should turn yer heid mair often then.”

“I think I feel that tee hee hee Buddha. I’m nearly trippin’.”

“Good innit?”

“Fuckin’ right.”

“Want another?”

“Fuckin’ right.”

I don’t know what time I eventually went to bed, but I woke up with the munchies. I tip toed past Buddha’s room – so as not to wake him up – and headed for the kitchen in search of biscuits. Buddha was right into that health food lark. There was all sorts in his cupboards; things like wheatgrass powder, blue algae and sphagnum moss. There were no biscuits, but I found a tray of chocolate brownies in the fridge. I scoffed three or four of the wee brownies with a glass of milk. It was only when I had finished my sugary repast that I tasted the by now familiar oily residue on my teeth. Shit, the brownies were some of Buddha’s ‘edibles’.

I tried to sleep, but was roused from my slumbers by a loud clanging – like the old fire engines made. It took me a moment to ascertain that the source was in my head. I was hallucinating wildly and could see luminous air molecules cavort and wriggle in the dark. Quite suddenly a Blueband margarine tub materialised in my head. I could see it, but can’t explain how, because it was inside my head. Then the margarine tub vibrated a little before flipping over onto its side. It wasn’t empty. Batman was in there and he sprang out to smashed my brain with a giant mallet. My whole body convulsed with the blow. Batman then settled back into the margarine tub and it flipped back onto its base. A moment later it happened again. Batman was giving my brain a proper pounding.

This went on for like two hundred years before Batman’s blows grew softer as he faded off and I found myself free falling through space towards the beautiful blue planet Earth. I was enjoying the view and the sensation of gently falling when I was joined by this guy who was also falling.

“I bring a message from your sponsor.” He said.

“I recognise you.” I said.

“You’re tuning into the wrong channel.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Yes you do.”

“Who are you?”

“You know me. You’ve always known me.”

“Go away.”

“Don’t you want to know?”

“Know what?”

“Why you are here?”

“Why am I here?”

“We sent for you.”

“Who are you?”

“Good question. Who do you think I am?”

“How would I know?”

“I’m a messenger.”

“Aye, you said.”

“I bring a message from your sponsor.”

“I’m tuning into the wrong channel.”

“Yes.”

“What does that mean?”

“Look within.”

I looked within. The whole universe was in there. I was in there too. Then he zapped me; twenty million volts coursed through me and everything that ever was followed. I understood it all. From the big bang to the end of time; it was all laid out before me. In the beginning were the words and the words were lights, camera, action! The whole show was specifically designed for me, for this moment. I turned my head a certain way and caught a glimpse of the universe turning around me. I was at the centre of everything and everything was at the centre of me. I couldn’t wait to tell Buddha.

“I saw Jesus!”

“Really?”

I explained the whole trip to him. I was calling it a vision. He laughed uproariously when I told him about the brownies. Apparently there was a lot of hash oil in the brownies. I told him about Batman and the message from my sponsor. I related the whole experience as best I could. There was much to tell – there was everything in my story. It was the story of everything.

“You’ve had a revelation Johnny, an epiphany.”

“I talked to Jesus.”

“Are ye sure?”

“Who else could it be?”

“Anybody.”

“It wasn’t just anybody. It was Jesus.”

“Did he say he was Jesus?”

“Naw, but I recognised him.”

“You’re making the classic mistake Johnny Boy. You’re focussed on the messenger, not the message.”

“What was the message?”

“Don’t ask me. It was your vision. It was your message.”

“I don’t know. There was so much. I saw everything.”

“That’s yer message then – everything. What else would it be?”

My vision haunted me for months. I was convinced I met Jesus. Buddha just laughed at that, but every time I thought about Jesus I cried. I wanted to talk to people about it. Buddha advised me not to. I admit I made an arse of myself a few times trying to convey everything to everybody. Eventually the immediacy of it faded and so did some of the details, but something special had happened to me. Buddha agreed with me there. He said I should meditate on it. He suggested I eat some more brownies since that seemed to be my spiritual catalyst. I declined. I simply was not ready for more of everything, but I had some more gummy bears just the same.