SOC #1: My Time in I.V.

(SOC stands for Stream Of Conscious)

This was a time I was living in Santa Barbara where my best friend got me a cool job, a high paying job, one where I can set my own hours and earn almost 1500 a week, fuckin' tax free. Great, yes, good, right? No, but that's another story. I want to tell you about our Halloween celebration just after arriving to that sunny, beach crazy city. The hipsters, surfer peeps, and Jersey Shore looking kids were out, drinking liquor, and consuming drugs, up their noses, smoking it, or swallowing it. Another one of my best friends came to town as well for this festive holiday, and we drove to Isla Vista, a college town full of houses, apartments buildings, and condos with sounds of techno shit, and hip-hop shit music booming from almost every fucking living space. Parking the car, we walked around, smoking a blunt and passing it around. The sun was still out, some kids were doing the same as us, or drinking beers. When the sun went down, the pigs were out in their kaki best, flashlights lit, awaiting for a justification for their purpose, wanting it, desiring it with each face they lit up with the flashlight, with each person they followed. The kids were out as well, outfitted with whatever they wanted to look like, one idiot dressed like a prisoner, how fucking creative, an attire of stupidity. A pigs car slammed it's brakes and screeched to a stop in front of a two story house. The man and his big biceps eagerly, and gratifyingly, got out of the drivers side as two other pigs dragged out a shirtless, hippie-looking drunk, handcuffed, slamming him on the trunk lid of the car. He cried, "NO! NOT MY MEDICINE!" Then banged his head on the cop car. The big-biceped pig grabbing ahold of the dumb, drunk, shirtless hippie's head, smiling, happy to show off the strength of his arms to the nearby college sluts. My friends and I decided to back to the car, my car, and have a joint. We were stoned, getting tired I was, not finding a house party we could get ourselves into, pigs looking for money - I mean justice - going back to our car seemed to be an ideal solution for the moment. In the car I smoked a cigarette while my friend rolled a joint, but in his tired, euphoric state, he was too transfixed on all the girls, leaving the joint unfinished on his lap. After I was done with the cigarette, I  closed my eyes, fucking bored of the whole unenjoyable scene, I heard a knock. Flashlights, the words "I see what you're doing," said to my friend. Him replying, "YEAHHHH!" Hands rubbing together. Pigs go fishing in a sea full of fish, hook, line, fuckin' sinker. Our stupidity was their bait in a scene full of stupid kids. There was two pounds of weed in my trunk, but I didn't go to jail that night. No money for the pigs.