The Prophet, and Other Reasons that Peyote Should be Outlawed (wow, and now I understand that it is outlawed!)

It all started innocently enough. Feeling gainful employment to be imminent, I decided that maybe it was time to dry out. I brought my English Bulldog, Jake, to the beach with me for use as a chick-magnet.

I met a homeless man who told me a sad and tragic saga of his pathetic and miserable life. I've come to know this man only as "the Prophet." He is wiser than I, despite the fact that he only has a third grade education. Jake and I eat peyote buttons with the prophet, and have visions like you wouldn't believe. Jake has tripped the fuck out and shit all over the fucking place, and the Prophet is singing a "No Doubt" tune, but his lips arent moving. He can do that, because he is the Prophet - I know because he told me so (and his lips weren't moving then, either). He was the guy who played "Jesus" in "Jesus Christ - Superstar" in the 70's. He fell on hard times when "Cats" hit it big in the early 80's, lost it all in a wild, drunken night in vegas at the craps table, then hitchhiked to Galveston with a group of runaway lesbian nuns. Now he begs on the streetcorners and spends his spare change on chocolate slimfast shakes and stale, cheap cans of Copenhagen dip.

I light up a Pal Mal for Jake and myself, and we listen to the Prophet rap. That's right - rap. About being a slimfast-head and representin' at the Galveston County Health District Methadone Clinic, and telling stories about a handfull of lustful liaisons with Mama Cass Elliott (of the Mamas and Papas fame) back in the early 70's - before she choked on the ham sandwich. Insane fucking shit. I poured Jake a drink from my flask, and he soon was asleep and snoring at the feet of the Prophet.

I dropped another tab of acid and woke up to the sound of the Manager of the Commodore Motel, banging on the door again. Jake is going nuts. I asked the Prophet to answer the door, and I realize that he was never there at all. What a fucking trip. The Motel room is a fucking mess; everything is broken.

.....I hope the folks at the Hospital don't catch wind of this unfortunate turn of events..........