(no subject)
heh, I forgot this whole like, 5 day big ass portion of my stay in Flag. Uh, this hitch hiker who was flying signs with Tony every day and was staying at my hotee seemed like this really nice guy, kinda hippie-ish, listened to good metal, stole a boat one time and went to Ireland(?!!), was from Maine, and kept talking about how he was so fucking glad he met us, and also kept lying about his age (he looked about 40), ok i'm not going to make that a sentance because it's already too long for the impatient little buggers who watch too much tv. Anyway, THAT guy, we were all cool untill one night when I was really drunk I let him run a train on me. Tony started noticing shit about him, probably also that him and I had a lot in common, in an underhanded sort of way, that he was saying all this weird shit about killing people, or looking at us weird, or touching us weird, etc. Now, I think Tony's probably done more than 5,000 hits of acid in his lifetime. He kept hinting that I was trusting this dude too much. I didn't think anything of it, like, he just seemed really greatful and nice and an all around mood-bringer-upper and mind- stimulating type of guy. But he did say some weird shit. Like he'd done more than 40,000 hits of acid in his life. This one night, me and Tony had him watch the beer and sit in the alley while we went to get cigs. We got back, he wasn't there. We looked around and asked around downtown for a couple hours. We come back, his nose is a little fucked up, he broke into the hotee. He says we abandoned him and he got jumped by 3 college guys. I don't really believe it. I don't believe any of it. Anyway, a shitload more whiskey later, he couldn't talk right, but he said reaaaaaaaaly fucked up shit, i was almost blacked out, but i think they were basically unintelligable creepy ass death threats. So the next day paranoid, and I think, slightly jelous Tony, decides that we should either get these kids that we don't know how to find on the east side to help us kick him out, or we needed the cops, because he thought this guy had had some victims before, and some shit could reaaaaaaaaaly go down if it were the two of us. I mean, I was crying, like, I don't want to fucking die. This is so embarassing to put in a live journal that we didn't just take our knives in pocket and talk to him rationally. I wasn't feeling very rational. Tony's kind of paranoid, and possibly a bit delusional, what with the history of the acid and such. So, we call the cops, and this is why we started sleeping in the woods and such. Anyway, the necklace I got from my art teacher, like, I would rather have all my gear jacked than this, got jacked. Bleh. Feel bad about that. I think he was a nice guy. Haven't got our throats slit in our sleep yet.