Tim’s Trap--- Part Three

Tim’s Trap
Part three

Tim woke up late, and as far as he knew-- alone in the house, which was filled with a sweet and pungent scent. He wasn’t sure what it was, but thought it was either frangipani or maybe gardenias, both of which flourished around here.

He staggered into the kitchen, where he found a note from Monica giving directions to the field where the picking was being done. She had also left some breakfast for him in the fridge. He ate the fruit platter and made some toast and coffee, after which he set off on foot to find her.

He couldn’t believe his eyes when he saw the huge fields of Marijuana extending as far as he could see. Most of the plants were well over eight feet tall and he guessed that there were at least three acres of them.

“Monica, where are you?” he called out after seeing people moving in and out of the plants, which were grown in rows just like wheat or corn. He noticed that one field had already been picked and the plants were tied together in bundles waiting to be moved. There was a big barn at the end of one field, and he guessed the crop would end up there.

“She’s over there, in the first lot to your right.” Gisella yelled back. “You’d better put some suntan lotion on, it’s really burning down today.”

“Yeah, I will, thanks Gisella.” he replied, thinking that he’d be just fine without it, since he was wearing his bush-hat, a long-sleeved shirt and long pants. There was hardly a spot where the searing sun could touch him. He really hated that messy goop on his skin, but he supposed she was right, anyway. Nothing worse than getting burnt—it had happened too many times to ever forget, least of all the pain.

He caught up with Monica, who was busy pulling out the plants in her row, her hands and parts of her face were covered in black resin from handling them. He could hardly wait for the beautiful fresh hash she would make from it later, simply by rubbing her fingers until it came off in little blobs. Then the blobs would be added to each other to create a series of irregular beads, or a block if there was enough of it.

They had learned this technique while trekking through the outer regions of the Kathmandu Valley in Nepal, where Marijuana grew wild in some places and was also cultured by the locals.
Once, when stopped for the night in a tiny monastery high up on a steep outcrop, Buddhist nuns had shown them how to use the whole plant. Starting at the outer leaves, which they used to brew a delicious tea right down to the tiniest seeds, which were ground to make flour. The nuns smoked the fresh hashish during religious ceremonies and were rather amused at the traveler’s constant need to inhale smoke—of whatever kind.

“Good morning love. How’d you sleep?” she asked now, bringing his mind back to the present.

“Too long, I think. I had a few nasty dreams about Smokey. I can’t seem to keep him out of my mind.”


“About that, I was talking to Gisella about it, and she thinks you should do it here. Get him up here as soon as you can, and we can set him up. Clear the matter up once and for all. What do you think? Keep the spiders out of our house, right? There are plenty of them around here, shouldn’t be hard to catch a few. What do you say?”

“I say come here you luscious thing so I can get a bit more of you!” Tim replied grabbing her breast, and getting unbearably hard. ‘

“Come and get me then!” she giggled happily, as she ran into the bushes, with Tim hot on her heels.

Smokey was surprised to get the call from Tim and a little suspicious too. He had met that bitch Gisella a couple of times and thought that she was stuck up. Now she’d invited him up to stay for a few days, or as Tim had put it, help with harvesting and be amply rewarded. Why now? Hadn’t he offered to go with Tim in the first place and been rebuffed?

Maybe he shouldn’t worry about it and just think about the offer. How hard could it be to pull a few plants out of the ground, and get a whole pound of the best at the end of it? Not to mention the added bonus of a few days of getting stoned and drinking with a group of people he could impress. Also it seemed that Tim had stopped being suspicious about the fucking hash. About fucking time!

After all, Tim and Monica were happy and stoned, traveling in India for months, while expecting me to face all the music here, if something went wrong. Why shouldn’t I get my cut? I fucking deserve it. And what they gave me wasn’t nearly enough. Wasn’t it my idea in the first place, to pull that shit off?

Motherfuckers, and Monica especially, god I hate he and her bitchy girlfriends. Those eyes of hers, it’s like they see right through me. Still I’ll do this picking shit and then sell the stuff as quickly as possible. Then India here I come! Fuck, if only I hadn’t given Trish so much of that hash to, I ‘d be out of here already. But she’s worth it-- might even take her with me, if she behaves herself.

He picked up the phone and called her, but she didn’t pick up the phone, even after several tries. Fuck it, she’s probably out of it. I haven’t got time for this shit.

He felt like shooting up before his flight, but changed his mind. I mightn’t make it to the airport, since this last stuff is so fucking strong. I’ll save it for tonight. He rolled himself several hash joints, adding a sprinkling of heroin to one, which he smoked on his way to the airport.

To be continued