He walks through the woods, passing campers in their tents and at the tables ... smoking, fucking, arguing, laughing, passing them by on way to the cliff, he's oblivious.  Stunned in the eyes, stoned in the mind, the wind behind blows all their noise away.

Overlooking the precipice edge he lights a blunt and breaths in deep.  Staring blank ... he falls to his knees.  Breathing heavy into sobs, out of madness laughing, and roaring to the moon above.  His body convulses twitching as some internal growth unseen sets in, straightening his arms then the legs, throwing him back from cliff's edge.

Breathing hard into the calm returning he looks to the dropped and smouldering blunt in the pale dry grass.  The tiny cracking ... smoke rises, he stares.  He swipes it from the shot and spits to the ember, coughing heard, the sounds of other campers return as he stands tall, stretching into flex.

Blunt in the mouth, another coughing fit breaks the moment.  His cell phone rings.  To his ear before a grin, the the blunt's swiped from his face.  He looks to the side ...

Roger - Takes a deep hit and passes, words struggling back the smoke.  "Shit'll kill you, you know."

Scott - Pockets the phone, "It can get the fuck in line."  Inhales ... "We got a gig."

Roger - "Heh ... "

Scott coughs another fit ...

Roger - "You sure ?"

Scott - Breath returning laboriously, "Yeah.  I'm sure."  Looks at the blunt.  "Need edibles."  Throws it down and stomps it to unknown campers' cheers.

~ The Precipice Edge ~

Their converted school bus spins tires down the road out of the woods and on to the the highway, engine roaring under the blower, matte black and dirty, smoke pouring from the windows like it was born in Hell.

Inside, the campers seem oblivious, along for the ride as Roger drives.

Passing the traffic, swerving through and between like a bird in flight, the city lights glow on the horizon  ahead.  

Roger - "This shit's gonna kill you you know."

Scott - A look ...

Roger - Lights a smoke.  "I mean these gigs.  You need to stop."

Scott - "Then who feeds the kids ?"

Roger - A glance to the likely useless stoner pile in back ... "They really are helpless aren't they.  Adorable.  But helpless."

Scott - "Yeah ... "

Roger - "Look.  I mean you're addicted to this shit."

Scott - "We're all addicted to this shit."  Grabs the blunt from his mouth.

Roger - "No.  I mean death.  

Scott - "So did I."

Roger - "No.  No fucked up jokes.  It's not right.  You've got it all twisted up in your mind.  You're obsessed.  And all these fucks ... you keep em around to witness it."

Scott - "And you ?"

Roger - "I'm your voice of fucking reason."

Scott - "Damn good mechanic too.  You know I can't die."

Roger - "Thank you.  No deflections.  Why did you take this gig."

...

Scott - "Needs doing.  Nobody else will.  Probably nobody else can."

Roger - "And do you think the world will stop turning without you ?  It's killing you.  Inside.  And when you die on the outside ... then what ?"

Scott - "I'll answer the phone."

Roger - "Yeah that'll be me calling you a dumbass.  As long as you know, you can fool all these hippies, but you cannot fool, your voice of reason.  I see it.  You are looking hard, for the one thing you cannot have.  So what's the gig ?"

Entering the city ~

Past the sex district (a bit like New York used to be off the Lincoln tunnel) and into an alley.  

 

Roger - To Marsha (total hippie) seating herself at the wheel with wide eyes over all the switches, she starts flipping them."Nowhere to park the Beast, just keep her rolling."

Marsha - Mad in the eyes with excitement, "Gas money ?"

Scott - "Earn it."

Marsha - Giddy, "Heee ... go.  Go go go."  Flips switches ... a look ... Go !"

They depart, the door slams as the Beast skids to catch its loaded girth up to the hopped motor.  They watch it skid though a turn ... police start their sirens.  

Watching the wailing sounds and engine roaring as though through the buildings, circling the block an getting loud again.

Marsha - As is screams past, "Whoo !"

They watch as it fades again ...

Scott - "Marsha's not useless."

Roger - "No she is not.  Cab."

Scott - "Yep."  One pulls up.

They get out at the inner city motel.

At the desk ~

Hotel Manager (Bob) - "Fuck you."

Scott - "Please.  In and out."

Bob - "Cut."

Scott - "Five."

 

Bob - "Seven."

Scott - "Fine."

Bob - "Fuck you."  Tosses him the keys.  "Roger."

 

Roger - "Bob."  Catches his set.
________

In dreams ~

Devil - Whipping Scott, "But you will.  And then ... this."  Another lash.  "Another world to escape in ?"  A lash, "Another dream in which to hide from it ?"  Lash.  "It will all be for naught.  There is only this.  A lash.

Scott sleeps in his motel bed with an occasional twitch.

Coffee in the shitty motel lounge ~

Roger - "So.  Has your pulse returned ?"

Scott - "Oh ... fuck ... Off.  Yes.  I have a pulse."

Roger - "Let's see." ... "Let's ... see."

Scott sticks out his arm, Roger feels around the wrist looking ... then looking harder.

Roger - Throws down the arm annoyed, "Dead as a door nail."

Scott - "So what.  Eat my fucking vegetables ?"

Roger - "It would help."

Scott - "Help what."

Roger - "What the fuck are you even doing here ?  Why aren't you ... "

Scott - "Dead ?"

 

Roger - "Not that I would miss these chats in such mystifying locales, but yeah.  You seem intent on it, and you've already got it, you undead motherfucker."

Scott - "I guess there's your answer.  I'm not looking for death, death is looking for me and I know it.  You know why I always take the gig ?  As long as I'm necessary."

Roger - "And when the world's done with you ?"

Scott - "I'll leave a hideous corpse."

Roger - "You are a hideous corpse.  We need to get your heart pumping again, drink more coffee."  Looks at his watch, "We're walking."

Scott - "Fuck that."  Slams the cup.

Roger - "Fuck you."  Slams his, they head for door.  "Thanks Bob."

Bob - "Fuck you both kindly and have a nice day."

They open it as the Beast roars by with the sirens, hippies screaming, followed by the police and news choppers.

...

 

They start walking.