What do we do with madness, or the slow dissolution of dreams? It turns out, reality is only what it appears to be, and the people on the outside, see it differently. -Intellectual Shaman

My friend invited me to a party.

The guys on skateboards stared at us through marijuana haze. Their tattoos were violent depictions of death. They looked like a combination of Bob Marley and the Z-Boys. A girl with purple hair and a purple dress and a purple hat that said Witch on it, grabbed my friend, and started talking to him. In five minutes, he was giving her a massage. He had fallen under her spell. Then the games began—skateboarders jumping across the pavement. All the girls lining up—watching, for the stupidest man with the biggest balls who might make them pregnant one day. It was like antelope in mating season. I ate roasted duck with the head on it. Then I ate some Filipino rice. I figured, if my mouth was full, I wouldn’t have to talk to anybody. It was getting dark, so I asked my friend if he wanted to go.

“I want to stay!” He said. “If you learn to speak their lingo, and you try-out their skateboards, they might accept you.”

“Sure.” He really thought he could fit-in. “I’m going to go. It’s not worth trying to be liked.”

“Okay Brah!”

I had to get home to the comfort of tea and a good book. So, I plugged in my GPS, and drove away. It took me down a road to a dead end, where a homeless man was warming himself by a fire. He was drinking something out of a cup.

“Want some whiskey?” He asked.

“I’m driving,” I said.

“You can stay here for the night. Are you sure you don’t want a drink?” He asked. “It will chase your worries away…”


“Really,” he said. There was conviction in his voice—like he knew better than me. “Here—I’ll pour boiling water into this cup. That way, none of my homeless bugs will jump onto you. Coffee?” He asked.


“That cup I gave you—I rescued out of a dump.”

“Oh.” I looked at it. There was a bunny painted on the lip.

“You drink from that, and your wishes will come true,” he said.

I drank some more coffee. It tasted like tar, but I started to see things differently. There was a glow—like brightly colored stars. Then, a bunny jumped over the campfire and into the brush.

“If you catch ‘im, he’ll give you a wish.”

“There aren’t mushrooms in this coffee, are there?”

He ignored me.

I was already lost, so what did it matter? I walked into the woods, and my senses heightened—like the tall trees, growing, slowly, with so much wisdom. I could hear its footsteps.

 I walked silently. Then I reached-down into the bushes and grabbed it.

It bit me, and I let go.

When I got back to the homeless man, he was smiling.

“He bit you.”

“Yeah, I’ll probably get rabies or scabies or…”

“No, you won’t. What you’re going to get is good luck. You caught the rabbit, and the rabbit carries what you want.”

“Then, why are you homeless?” I asked.

“I haven’t been able to catch ‘im for many years. If you only depend on luck, it might run away from you.”

Well, thanks for the coffee.”

“Keep the cup,” he said. “It’s not doing me any good.”

The End


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