Getting off your ass, saying goodbye to your friends, then waiting to be shot, on the orders of some despot sitting in a office somewhere, unbelievable, you could not write it, let alone imagine it. He slits the bag of powder, sticks in the tasting tool, tries to figure the potency, then smiles, agrees the price, great shit he says, putting down the small tool in his hand, the money is passed over, everyone is happy, business done, the powder delivered. A crime spree, the addicts can’t pay for it otherwise, it’s not fancy, it’s not a mansion behind closed doors, it’s not cool, but it ought to be legalized in some way, well, they chemical concoctions are unlimited and can’t be legislated for, impossible, the contents of the concoction are not in the legislation, so the lawyers say, the ones who come up with the rules.
Solomon sighed, he wasn’t frigid mentally, didn’t scoff the green, was glad to indulge, liked to get free of the world, so much stuff they go around with in their heads. They all carry baggage even if they don’t admit it, no one can fool the almighty. How simple he sighed, had they even heard of the intention of the law, not what was written, same applied to ancient scripture, a guide to the traveler, not the actual journey. One day, it’s a stream, that is what you are, impossible to believe, well try it first, before you give out.
Zombies rise from the trenches of the first great war, one after another, they walk into the metal barrage and fall dead, on top of each other, whose great plan was that. All these years later, only the arms manufacturing industry, the only industry that got the benefit, worth trillions, it has to start somewhere.