Okay, now that the Bastard letters I had planned for #6 are all up, here's a story that was slated for that issue:

SHROOMIN’
by Daniel de Sailles
It is usually pretty difficult to get shrooms in los Angeles... well, unless you know some hippies. My friend and I didn’t, but we did know this guy who went to raves and was known on occasion to be able to find any mind candy you could possibly desire.
So, after my friend Steve picks me up form the Greyhound station we go to this guy named David's (the raver guy) house and pick him up because he wants to shroom with us.
So, it becomes pretty clear that we're going to have to chauffeur David around town. He makes one stop, buys two ounces of pot, makes another and sells one of them, and finally goes to a guys house and buys an ounce of magic mushrooms. Then we make another stop and I go into one of those small neighborhood liquor stores that doesn't ask for ID (I was twenty at the time) and get a quart of rum..
We decide to shroom at UCLA, and when we get there David starts dividing up what we scored. The only problem is that the motherfucker takes a long ass time to do it, more than half an hour. When he finally finished we each downed an 1/8th and a small container of orange juice.
Suddenly we see flashing lights from the top of the street and a campus cop pulls up in front of us. He tells us to stamp out our cigarettes and pull out our IDs. We do so in numb shock and noticed that the remainder of the shrooms, the quart, and the pot are all in plain view in the back seat where he had been cutting.
All of the sudden two more cop cars pull up and four more members of our fine, upstanding, local storm troopers surround us.
We know without any shadow of a doubt we're way beyond fucked. I have more hallucinogens in my body than I have ever had before in my life and there is no way that I'm going to be able to "be cool" when they started working in the next few minutes.
But one of the officer's radio went off, and then the four cops that came as backup bailed. Then the cop that initially accosted us, looking torn between busting a bunch of punks, and something else said, "I know you guys are up to something... there's an officer under fire right now so I have to go, but if I catch you here in an hour I'm going to take you down."
The guy left, and we were ecstatic about it, but we all knew that there was no way that any of us could drive.
So, we all ran into the campus, got separated, and hid anywhere we could. I hid in a bathroom and experienced the absolute worst trip of my life, my friend Steve ended up in the Basketball arena when the janitors were trying to clean it, and David hid behind some trees... near the student union.
Despite some permanent psychological scars we all got through it virtually unscathed. It sure as hell was a good thing that we had that rum to keep our nerves steady when we drove home though.

Daniel de Sailles is the editor of Random. You can reach him at: 1958 Matador Way #190, Northridge, CA 91330

Burn in Hell. Fuckers.
posted by El Bastardo at 9:14 PM