The Edible Diaries

Billy Wayne Davis, contributor

ed noteThis is a new ongoing column from comedian Billy Wayne Davis about his adventures after being given a “tub” of edibles by a comedy fan after performing in Humboldt in October. It will run every month until he returns for the 4th Annual Savage Henry Magazine Comedy Festival in late August.

First thangs first, I want to apologize for missing the last issue. I was HIGH as and/or on the INTERNATIONAL SPACE STATION, just taking in the view and listening to Sturgill Simpson. My bad ya’ll, I spaced.

Now, where were we? Uhhhhhhhhh, fuck, okay…… I was about to pull out of Arcata with my much better half and our fluffy-four-legged fun-factory, Bo Jackson. I’d ingested some (all the) snicker doodles and the not-a-fair trade coffee I had been gulping was not putting me back in the discretion of balance. My perspective was starting to change. Have I always been able to taste the wind?

I pointed our hatchback to the South and hoped we’d make it to San Fran before the darkness set in. Driving down the 101, the THC really took over, she (THC is a good time lady) was in control of our journey whether I liked it or not. I LIKED IT. …A LOT. She centered our buggy in the right lane, set the cruise control on trippy -seven miles an hour, and whispered in my ear, “Relax pussy, its about to get fun.”

With the Pacific ocean to my right, I realized it would be possible to communicate with sea creatures if I could just figure out what metaphysical CB channel they were using. It wasn’t channel 19, that’s for emergencies only. It wasn’t 18 either, that was a trucker correcting another trucker about who’s was behind 9/11. According to Mr. BoDukesPubes, 9/11 was masterminded by the Grey aliens who thought the Twin Towers where an eye sore when they flew by Earth, and the Pentagon was just an accident. Not a political statement but an aesthetic statement. It was a taste-motivated act of terror. Makes as much sense as the official story, I thought. I kept scanning the channels to hear some whale noises or at least a wise cracking dolphin. The sea was quiet.

But the majestically massive trees we were rolling toward; abruptly yet smoothly began turning into those hippie chicks who dance the same way no matter what the music. They were welcoming us into their world and reminding me to press down on the accelerator. Going slow will get the mirrored glasses attention just as quick as going fast. The tree’s had our back, I told the ether. Hold on I’m about to go real fast.

To be continued….

 

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