Member-only story
Mike Meets the People in the Bus
March 12, 1967. 12:01 am.
West Hollywood, California.
Mike picked his way through the Sea Witch’s smoky confines and ducked out into cold West Hollywood air. The Peanut Butter Conspiracy was really feeling it that night, but he just couldn’t catch the performance's groove. Real bummer to find himself locked outside that vibe.
For months he’d been thinking of the little man in the gray room. Almost obsessively. Worse than that, he couldn’t shake the feeling that the little man had been watching him, too.
Crazy, of course, but only getting crazier. He’d been having terrible dreams that only got worse the longer he went sober. He thought it’d be the opposite. He was hoping it’d been the drugs messing with his head.
He didn’t know where he was going. He was too scared to sleep. He was too scared to party. Too scared to meditate. So he wandered the streets and tried to let the beauty of the starry sky lift him someplace transcendent.
The cold night air and silence were just starting to pacify him when a bus appeared at a crossroads up ahead and turned onto the street, heading his way.
His heart skipped a beat at the sight of the old school bus. It was painted completely black — windows and all, but that wasn’t what bothered him. Strange…
