The Toad
By calvin99407
- 387 reads
Jeff was a grotesque bloke. Perhaps a glutton too. Excessive consumption perhaps not in the way of money or the atypical sense, but in the form of gluttony of chemicals. He had came to the Las Vegas desert high on a cocktail of substances varying from alcohol to mescaline. He had one crusade; one job; to find, study and document the story of a toad he kept hearing about. Strange tales of mystical beings entrancing those brave enough to smoke a venom produced by a toad, strange tales of beings enlightening methese individuals, elevating them in some manner. Jeff had heard about them from a local neo-shaman in the south part of San Fransisco. He had been told to follow the desert and let the toad find him not the reversal,
“very spiritual shit”, Jeff remarked to himself.
He believe himself to be well versed in the counter culture that suffocated the individuals that inhabited the 1960s there forth worthy of the toad, or so he had hoped. Saving up the small amounts the accompanied his bank account paid by individuals who brought his articles and informational pieces, he had rented himself a drop top, amassed a pharmacy-on-wheels in the form of a suitcase packed full of the colours of the rainbows and set off to find the Toad.
The drive from California was a desolate voyage, Jeff had decided to drop two Orange Sunshine’s to brighten up the browns and yellows that accompanied Jeff during his journey. A hour had passed; nothing. Jeff stirred, thoughts of betrayal and greed floated about his head, he had been ripped off.
“Bastards”, muttered Jeff.
The journey was 8/32ths of being over yet so far had been nothing but a drive, no substance just fluff. The vibrations were beginning to become increasingly menacing and negative, but why? Was this trip destined to fail? Was this the toad’s preemptive strike? Questions better left unanswered, our protagonist had greater issues at hand currently. The atypical straight road leading to Nevada had somehow devolved into what appeared to be a long winded asphalt snake. Jeff tried to stay on track but however the road was too wriggly, the vibrations too menacing. He quickly pulled the white caddy over to regroup and reclaim his mind. Feelings of paranoia rushed over him. What was he actually doing? Baking in a caddy in the outskirts of Nevada, his stableness dissolving, he had decided his road stop had to end for this crusade to continue. Jeff had to push on, if not for his sanity, for the Toad. Jeff’s stuff bony hands were firmly placed upon the driver’a wheel, if that’s what you could even call such a device when it is no longer a wheel and more so a melting sphere. He had feelings of vertigo, nauseous, he was no longer than 60cm apart from the ‘wheel’ yet visually he was miles. This Jeff, whose ego and personality were now eroding away at this point, was like a Frankenstein version of himself, he was melting himself, both metaphorically and physically. Jeff managed to pull away an eye from the ever twisting moving road and peered in his car. It was a pool. Strange liquid engulfed the car, it was Jeff? He was melting? He was certainly losing it. His desires to find this toad were slowly dropping away slowly too . His crusade had been now corrupted and he had little chance at even speaking let alone find and document a fucking toad. The trip had only just began.
Jeff had an epiphany; he had to leave this car. His journey was his own and this car was accounting for the bad vibes disturbing his voyage. He had decided to ditch the car, taking only a tent, some supplies and the ever ominous suitcase. At this point he had pulled over to the local gas station and had managed to buy a beer. Jeff began to wonder into the desert, south of the car, anywhere away from this car. At this point he became somewhat of a lost soul, furiously searching and wondering the Vegas desert, but for what? He had originally came for the toad but now was exploring the desert for no reason besides that the car was haunting him and he was in some kind of drug fueled paranoia craze. This was furthered by the desert. The cacti were whispering. Chatting shit about Jeff. He could hear it but they were were too quiet and careful to allow him to understand.
“Speak up you pussies”, protested Jeff.
The cacti refused to respond. The suitcase glistened in the bright hot sunshine of the desert. Another little bright epiphany; eat all the mescaline, perhaps this would make the cacti proud and awaken the toad.
“What a strange land”, pondered Jeff. The time unknown but was defiantly into the night. The stars could only laugh and mock the poor crusader who lay half bare in the Nevada desert. By this point he was no one, he didn’t exist. He was there but he wasn’t. He lay half naked, fully baked on the tent’s tarp. His little den shielding him from the desert and it’s horrors. The cacti were still whispering however it was getting pretty passive aggressive at this point and Jeff had decided to just watch the stars to drown out the horrors that lay in his temporary chemical reality.
Ribbit.
What was this?
Ribbit.
Was it the 7 acid tabs or was there a frog or toad or whatever the hell. Perhaps it was another cacti. Jeff managed to sit up and to his amaze lay the most beautiful creature ever; a toad. Could it be the one? It appeared green and yellow spotted like the mystical creature he was hunting. Only way one to determine. He quickly grabbed the toad and with his pride and health in tow began to lick the toad. What’s next would amaze you. It is indescribable . A trip and experience beyond the English language, beyond realty itself. Jeff had seen the light, the forbidden fruit. Whatever happens when you die, Jeff had experienced it.
He had awakened in a state of mass confusion. Now fully naked, covered in sunburns and mosquitos bites. Perhaps even a scorpion sting or some shit.
What had happened? What had he experienced? He managed to wobble to the service station once again. The great return. The grand white lay bare. It had been stripped off any materials and resources deemed worthy. Jeff was fucked. Feelings of confusion and paranoia once again rushed over him. Why was this experience one too similar. 3 days had passed since the initial crusade. What had happened. Jeff’s memory wiped clean. Perhaps by choice or perhaps the toad’s wisdom was one too great Jeff couldn’t handle it, that was clear. He was certainly going to be on the hook for the car and whatever crimes had happened in the last three days. Once again Jeff embarked on a paranoia fueled trip, back home to California now. Every car could be police, this was not a fun trip. Jeff managed to somehow hitched a ride back with a tracker, ditching the caddy. Whatever had happened was a sign, a sign from the toad.
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Comments
Welcome to ABCTales calvin.
Welcome to ABCTales calvin. There are some nice flashes of humour in this story - the idea of passive agressive cacti made me smile. If you're looking for suggestions, I'd say you need to go through this very carefully as I think you might have your autocorrect turned on, and it's quite hard to understand in places eg:
He believe himself to be well versed in the counter culture that suffocated the individuals that inhabited the 1960s there forth worthy of the toad, or so he had hoped. Saving up the small amounts the accompanied his bank account paid by individuals who brought his articles and informational pieces,
I hope you post more soon!
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