Hobo Joe and The Greatest Party
(The Making of a Hobo)
By Charles DuFont
God forbid I keel over on this here island one day by accident without having documented the story of the Greatest Party in all of its glorious detail. Existing only in my consciousness. Deceasing with my corpse. Buried in a sandy grave on an isolated isle of the Caribbean.
For this reason, I feel compelled to tell the story. Almost as an obligation/service to my fellow man. But before we begin, you must prepare yourself both mentally and physically.
Mentally, because after reading this story your mind will be fucked (pardon my French) frontwards, backwards, upside down, sideways and diagonally.
You won’t understand what the hell you’re reading, but you won’t want to stop reading because deep down inside we all want to be part of these types of wild social events. It’s part of our human nature. Part of our deepest primal instincts and urges. We all want to fuck (I hope you’re a fan of the French language, cause there’s a lot of French up in here) and bang and consume every type of known drug in super high (borderline deadly) doses for long extended periods of time. Don’t we? (At least my friends and I felt this way.) This is how we used to evolve and reach elevated states of consciousness. Our chosen path to enlightenment so to speak.
This is a relatively normal desire amongst men and women, but certainly not one without its dangers. I will discuss and show all aspects of partying in its most raw form. No bars held back (or censorship) because this is exactly how we used to live our lives every day in suburbia. You lucky readers now have a front row seat to observe the insane communal stupidity (and some beautiful moments) which occurred on that historic week.
And please don’t be confused, I´m not in any way promoting this type of behavior, cause most of the shit I’ll be describing can take you to an early grave. This is why the tale must be told, if for anything, as a warning to the youth of today, who are searching for their “true” selves in a bottle, a pipe, or with a nice soft breast cupped within the palm of the hand.
And you overly eager ones must also be prepared physically before reading this tale, because afterwards, you will have many physical urges to go out and party like we did on that unforgettable week. You´ll need every drop of your will power to resist the temptation to experiment and fall into prolonged sessions of drunken madness.
My dear readers, you have been warned…
Hike with Jimbo the Fat
“Jimbooo! Let´s go, let´s go! We’re gettin closer broo!”
He was dripping in sweat. His t-shirt looked like he just jumped out of a river. He wasn’t used to this type of strenuous hiking, on the other hand, I thrived up here in the mountains.
It was a beautiful, cloudless day. The sky was bright and blue and I couldn’t wait to find my little babies. I saw birds flying above, more than a thousand feet high. Gracefully floating up and down along the wind drafts. Jimbo and I and the rest of the gang would be as high as they were. Flying through the clouds. Each cloud representing another soft film of ecstasy, bliss and delightful intoxicationnsss…
“Joe, I love you man. You always take me to the best spots, but wait a second. I think I’m gonna crack a lung or something.”
He stood there wincing in exhaustion. His big wide chest, expanding and decompressing like a struggling lodge bellow attempting to strengthen a miniscule flame. He leaned his big weary frame up against a massive boulder and I stood by sucking up the fresh life-giving mountain air in heavy clumps. We just hiked up a near vertical part of the trail. I scurried up like a mountain goat and he inched along behind me like a land blimp.
“Come on man, you gotta push yourself. We´re almost there!” I said, trying to encourage the poor out-of-breath bastard.
“Alright, let´s go bro,” said Jimbo, as he quickly inhaled a few pounds of oxygen and wiped the sweat off his brow with his thick wrist.
We continued to hike along. This time I slowed down my pace to match his and we talked.
“How many people do you think are going to be at the party?”
“I don’t know for sure Joe, at least a hundred, maybe a few thousand throughout the entire week. Jessica, Rob, Eddy, Dave, Black Jack, everyone is getting involved on this one, putting together all our resources. Eddy even has a few of his DJ and musician friends coming in from the city. We are going to rock that house like never before Joe hahaha. When are your parents coming back?”
“That’s a good question. They should be back on July 1st. That gives us ten days to do whatever the fuck we want to do. On our terms. The masters of our own destiny. The creators of the most fantastical dreams ever to be imagined by anyone…” I don’t know why I was starting to get all mystical, but these types of events really pumped me up!
We arrived to the peak of the mountain. The view was awe-inspiring. I could see our town and four other tiny towns in the distance nestled between the rocky giants. We admired the rolling green hills and mountain peaks as the hot summer wind swept up against our bodies, attempting to push us off the great heights. Unidentifiable blackbirds were flying overhead, quietly watching our movements from their heavenly perspective. Wise, ancient creatures of the wind, completely free and self-sufficient. I longed to follow in their path. To become like them. What does it take to reach that level of evolution? This week we would all find out…
We took a moment to enjoy the view from up top, it was Jimbo’s first time climbing so high…
“I’m proud of myself. I didn’t think I’d be able to make the climb Joe,” he said, huffing the words out of his trembling mouth with a look of satisfaction and well-being. His eyes sparkled as they reflected the vast wilderness terrain in all its wondrous detail.
“You just have to breath, push past the pain and move forward, one step at a time. It’s simple. And little by little your body becomes stronger and adapts to the physical strain. Consistency my friend. Be consistent and you’ll shed off all that blubber and become fit like me,” I said, pulling up my sleeve while flexing my little biceps. Not trying to show off, but to give Jimbo a bit of motivation.
“Alright, we’re almost there Jim. Let’s keep moving.”
We drank some water and hiked past the peak.
We finally came upon the sacred patch after hiking all morning and afternoon. There they were. Ten plants. Healthy and ready to harvest.
“This is awesome Jim!” I said, feeling warm feelings of joy bubble up inside my spirit. “Look at them, they are marvelous! See how they seem to move despite the fact that there’s no wind around us now. Incredible maaan!”
Jim put down his sack and began to caress the green buds as if he were touching precious jewels discovered after a long dangerous mission. Rubbing the fine crystals into the crevices of his fingerprints. Ready to claim them and roll up a big one…
I planted these maryjane plants a few months earlier and I visited them periodically. This was one of the most potent strains of bud in the entire state and we had ten of em. They were a great addition to our party, altering the minds and behaviors of countless youths…
Meanwhile back in town…
Jessica sat in her office on Main Street.
A nice office with elegant decorations; a huge beautifully framed mirror, a sleek chrome desk with a glass top, a coffee table made of pebbles, and a dynamic red and pink abstract painting hung behind her head as she conducted battles on the telephone. She was dressed in her typical tight and revealing clothes; a sleek black and grey dress hugged her fit body, starting from the tops of her breasts and going down her thighs. She’s a beauty, that’s for sure. But her stress levels were hitting the roof, because her various contacts weren’t producing the results she demanded.
She started to wail:
“You faggit cuntsss! I don’t care what you have to do to get them! Call Roberto – Ricardo – Rodrigo! Call whoever you have to fucking call. Do whatever it takes! This is going to be the biggest party of the year and I need everything you got by this week! Entiendes butooo?”
Jessica continued like this for more than an hour. Her tight body and luscious curves tightened up and straightened out with every loud exclamation and derogatory remark. After all, she is the Pill Queen. She could get her hands on anything that has ever been fabricated in any pharmaceutical laboratory from the East coast to the West coast and from the frozen tundras of Northern Canadia to the hot dry deserts of Mexico and beyond. She knows her shit and makes deals with the best of them.
“I don’t give a fuck, do what you have to do, these kids will pay top dollar!”
She manipulated her foul tongue in her mouth similar to how a turban-wearing snake charmer controls a deadly cobra in a basket. Each one of her movements and statements – calculated and precise. In full command of her henchmen, as if they were little yellow minions from Despicable Me. Her every wish became their utmost priority…