Crazy Bitch

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Jun 27, 2002
14,470
135
63
#1
Preface:

I'm a very trusting person...I was born and raised as such. I grew up in a small town in upstate New York - the kind of place where it's safe to leave your keys in the car with the doors unlocked...seriously, my dad used to leave his keys in the ignition all the time!

My trusting, friendly nature sometimes borders on naivety, which usually isn't a problem...until the wrong person comes along, sees that trait as a weakness and tries to exploit the shit out of it and use it to their gain. And that's how it all began....

Psycho - Part 1
---------------

Six months ago, I was at a bar with a couple friends, enjoying a few cold ones (mmm...Sierra Nevada Pale Ale). The conversation was nothing short of genius - debating the musical legitimacy of bands like Dokken and Husker Du.

I was just about to suck down Sierra #6, when I spotted a figure approaching on my left flank. My drunken ninja-like reflexes took over and I spun around so quickly that I nearly fell off my bar stool. I caught myself, regained composure and took my first glimpse of her - late 20s, reasonably attractive, somewhat resembling a gradeschool art teacher who had all but lost her college hippie persona.

"Hello," she said, "I couldn't help but hear that you're a musician...I'm Sarah." She extended her hand, I shook it.

I proceeded to introduce myself and my friends to Sarah. She told me that she had just moved back to the area after being away at college for seven years and she was looking for musicians with whom she could "jam" - apparently, Sarah was a singer.

I totally sympathized with her situation - I had found myself in a similar predicament when I first moved here three years ago, so I didn't think twice about giving her my phone number and the number of my friend Ryan, a guitarist. I wrote the numbers on a napkin, exchanged a few more pleasantries with Sarah and then she melted back into the crowd as quickly as she had appeared.

A little voice inside my head told me that this would not be the last I heard from Sarah. The little voice was right.
 
Jun 27, 2002
14,470
135
63
#2
A week later, I got a phone call.

"Hello?"

"Hi Andrew, this is Sarah. We met at the Rattlesnake last week..."

"Hey, Sarah...how are ya?"

"Oh...I'm good. Listen, I'm calling to get Ryan's phone number again. The napkin you wrote it on got wet and I lost the number."

I gave Sarah the number again and we proceeded to shoot the shit for a few minutes. She told me a little more about her time away at school and how difficult it has been to re-connect with her old friends now that she's back in her home town. Again, I sympathized because I didn't know anything or anyone when I first moved to the area a few years ago. I told Sarah that I would give her a call next time I went drinking with my friends – just to be friendly – so she could meet some people.

The conversation ended as innocently as it began and I went about my business not thinking anything of it.

A few days later, I was out with a bunch of friends, celebrating my buddy, Jerome's birthday. We were enjoying some pizza between beers when my phone rang...

"Ahoy hoy!!"

"Hello? Andrew?"

"Yeah...?"

"Oh, hey! This is Sarah. Listen, I was hoping you could do me a favor."

"Sure...shoot."

"I haven't smoked (weed) in months and I've just had a huuuge craving...can you help me out?"

At some point during our previous phone conversation, she must have picked up on the fact that I like to indulge from time to time. Being the helpful, trusting dude I am, I told her I would try to help her out, but seeing as how it was 10:30 on a Wednesday night, I probably wouldn't have much luck.

So, I made some calls – no dice, as expected. I then called Sarah back to give her the bad news. She seemed a little disappointed, so I invited her to meet up with my crew for some beers. Sarah accepted the invite and met up with us at the bar shortly after.

The scene at the bar was standard for a Wednesday and Sarah was just how I remembered her from the previous week when she first introduced herself – seemingly normal. She was, however, really bent out of shape about not being able to get her hands on some smoke. Yet again, I could sympathize because I've had such cravings, but I was throwing down beers left and right so I didn't really care.

After a few more beers, the party began to disband and I was stuck looking for a ride home. Luckily, my apartment was en route to Sarah's house – she offered to give me a ride.

The ride home was uneventful enough...well, except for the fact that while backing out of her parking spot, Sarah dragged the front-right corner bumper of her car alllllllll the way down the side of the car parked next to her. That was cool.

Then, as we approached my apartment, she started in again with the weed requests:

"Do you have ANY weed at your apartment? Anything at all? A bowl we could scrape? Anything???" She inquired.

I gave in – I had a little bit left that I was saving for a special occasion.

We pulled into my driveway and I invited Sarah up to my apartment. This was going to be a special occasion indeed...

--to be continued--
 
Jun 27, 2002
14,470
135
63
#3
I lived in a small, two room loft - the kind of place where your bed doubles as your couch and anytime you have guests, you have to give the obligatory "sorry my place is such a sty-hole" line.

Sarah sat on the edge of my bed-couch while I readied the smoking apparatus. She again started talking about her seven years spent at school and traveling - how she lived in Germany for a year and then decided to go to "university" in London for a while and then traveled around the U.S. for a year and then ended up at Harvard...

"Harvard you say?"

"Yeah, I spent two years at Harvard Divinity School."

Divinity school, eh? My curiosity was piqued, so I inquired further...

Sarah opened right up and started telling me how he had studied with some well-known divinity gurus at Harvard. She said that these people could connect with other worlds and dimensions. They could communicate with unseen spirits and control physical reality through metaphysical means.

--- Sidebar:

A couple years ago, I was reading a lot about ancient Central/South American cultures and religions. Then I started getting into metaphysics, particularly the work of Carlos Castaneda.

That's when a friend told me about Salvia Divinorum. For those of you who aren't familiar with Salvia, it's a plant (a member of the mint family) that has hallucinogenic properties. Salvia is native to Oaxaca, Mexico where it has long been used by local shamans as a spiritual and healing tool.

Salvia Divinorum is also legal and available on the interweb or at your local head shop. So, I picked some up...three small, one-gram bags.

I tried Salvia two times. The first experience was in a quiet, controlled, comfortable environment - it was amazing. The second time, my brain exploded, my visual world melted into two dimensions, Jimi Hendrix started singing evil shit to me and I totally lost touch with reality...for about 15 minutes. For that short time, I experienced the most incredible feeling of terror and panic I have ever known. I ended up half-naked in my kitchen, standing (barely) in the doorway, drooling and sweating puddles on the floor.

After that, I vowed never to touch the Salvia again. But for some reason, I never threw away the unused portion...

--- End of Sidebar

So I told Sarah about the different things I had read and she was quite knowledgeable - I figured she was telling the truth about Harvard and her studies. I also told her about Salvia Divinorum and my experience with it, including the part where I never threw away the unused portion...

Immediately, Sarah wanted to see the stuff - I showed her. As soon as she laid her eyes on the little plastic bags filled with dark brown, tobacco-like bits, she wanted some. Actually, she wanted us both to smoke some right then and there.

I said no, but Sarah prodded...and prodded and pushed and prodded some more. It was obvious she wasn't going to take "no" for an answer, so I figured the only way out of the situation was to let her smoke it while I kept an eye on her. Seeing as how the "experience" only lasts about 10 to 15 minutes, I didn't think it would be a big deal.

But Sarah wasn't fucking around. She proceeded to smoke through an ENTIRE BAG of Salvia - a whole gram!! All I could do was watch in awe as she sucked down bong hit after bong hit.

Sarah moaned, groaned and spoke gibberish as she laid across my bed. Her ankle-length skirt rose slightly, exposing legs hairier than any I've ever seen. She asked me to hold her feet in order to "ground" her. Fearing what might happen if I didn't agree to her demands, I obliged her. Even her feet were hairy.

Now, for most of you, watching a stranger on your bed take a multi-dimensional, drug-induced journey may be like making toast. But as I was sitting there, holding Sarah's hobbit feet and yearning for my PS2, which was just out of reach, my own paranoia had a chance to set in...

Why did she really approach me that first night at the bar? Why was she so bent out of shape about the weed thing? Do the Mets really have a shot at the pennant?

Finally, it occurred to me that the situation had already gone way too far. It was after 3:00AM - time to put the kibosh on these shenanigans. After some pushing and prodding of my own, I convinced Sarah that she was sober enough to drive home.

I must have washed my hands for a good ten minutes after Sarah left. I felt dirty. I felt used. I was even a little scared. Sarah was obviously a few crows short of a murder, but just how crazy could she actually be?

The answer came sooner than I could have possibly imagined...

--to be continued--