The Radiation Juan Chronicles will be featured whenever Juan gets off his drunken ass to actually send us something. Join him on his dangerous and sometimes disturbing (but usually disgusting) journey.
Peyote and Pavement
I walked for longer than I expected to under the circumstances: uncountable miles from the closest bar, town, or hashball depot, with the sun searing my flesh which didn’t normally see any light brighter than a neon sign. I was thirsty too, yet the drip-drip coming from where my wisdom teeth had been somehow offered some sweet relief.
Looking back I could see the car in the distance. Barely a charcoal smudge against the beige plains. God knows how long I’d been out there, but the road was sloping up and I had a clear view from my vantage point. It didn’t matter anyway. It wasn’t my car.
I spun around lazily and started back up the road. I could begin to see the tell tale signs of an approaching town: a sign up ahead, the refuse collecting in the ditches. I’d been this way before. I was sure of that.