SCARIEN NATION NOW BE ONE


CHAPTER SEVEN

RUT CITY


Time went by. The daze crawled by. Each one just like the one before. The cats ate at the neighborhood diner. They sat around in the yard of their new pad goofin'. They blew their tops on the golden leaf. They jammed. They wailed. They ate all the bennies. They chain smoked. They wondered when Mr. Scary would fall in.

They met a few English speaking cats who all doubted that Morocco was the center of the universe. Somebody told them that William the weird writer had moved to Tangier.

Rusty gave some greenbacks to a kid who said he could cop some hashish. The kid split and so did the loot. Supplies and cash were running low. Mr. Scary was a no show.

"Hey, Chick, what if that hack you met was jiving?"

"About what?"

"About this being the center of the universe, man."

"I don't know, man. That hash he laid on me sure tasted like it came from the center of the universe."

"We've been here for weeks, man."

"What are we doing?"

"Where's Mr. Scary?"

"This ain't the center of no universe."

"Like, rut city, Jim."

"Don't bug me man."

"We'd better split."

"Without finding Mr. Scary?"

"If we don't split soon we'll be tapped. Then how are we gonna get back?"

"Man, what a bringdown."

"Dragsville, daddy-o."

The Sneiracs shuffled down to the market and picked up on some stuff that was like a strong wine. Nobody could pronounce the name of the stuff, but nobody had any trouble drinking it. They drank a gallon of the stuff and started to feel better.

An old couple scuffled up the road towards the pad. As they got closer, they began to pick up their gate. Then they both blew their tops and started screaming some crazy gibberish. The cats couldn't understand a word they heard. The old man was waving his arms around in the air and his old lady was crying. The scene was getting ugly. No interpreter was needed to know that these squares were telling the cats to split.

"I think this joint belongs to them."

"Grab your stuff and book!"

"Man, what a drag, a real drag."

"We'll dig you later, pops."

The old-timers continued to emote as the cats gathered their stuff post haste. Three minutes went by and there were four beatniks going down the road feeling bad. The old man shook his fist in the air like he just didn't care. It was time to go home.

Like deja vu though backwards, the Sneiracs headed to Tangiers. The asked around about the kooky writer named William. They beat on doors trying to find a cheap ticket to Rome. Chick finally copped some hammocks aboard a freighter sailing to some unheard of destination in Italy. Scheduled to leave in two days.

Those two days were spent in a muggles haze, a solemn and silent daze. Everyone was mad at everyone else for being led half way across the world for a long distance call on a broken pay phone.


CHAPTER EIGHT

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