When I tell people about this thing that happened to me they think that I’m loco en la cabeza.  Even my own homeboys are treating me like I’m sick or something.  It’s good knowing that they’ll stick with me like that though, especially when I’m no good for nothing right now.  I can’t do shit and nobody will believe nothing that I say.  I need somebody, just one person, to believe something, just one thing , that I say.  And, since this happened, a got a lot to say.
    I’m going to try this again.  Things couldn’t have been better.  I was riding high.  We got this fight going with the assholes and somehow I knew what they were up to and we got the jump on them.  The homeys got all excited and made me out like some kind of hero or something.  The chics were rubbing on me and shit.  I was the man!  I think it was maybe a little TOO much for me and I had to get away on my own for awhile.  Also my back felt a little sore and I thought it would do me some good to walk around a little. So here I go walking down the road and then off into the arroyo feeling as high as the big bright moon that seemed to be following me; not like I had any drugs or shit.  I  hadn’t got around to that.  I was just all high on myself.
    I wandered through the drain pipe that had been all tagged by both the assholes and the homeboys.  There’s always been quite a war going in that pipe and it was cool seeing and remembering who tagged what.  Some of those bro’s aren’t around any more.
    So there I was squinting at those tags like nothing could happen to me.  Hey, a battle had been fought and won.  The assholes were away licking themselves.  I was bending over with my face almost right up against the concrete pipe and this big hand just reached out of nowhere and grabbed me!  It yanked me out of the pipe like I was a little rat or something.  I couldn’t see nothing much after that because I was tossed into a bag and everything got all dark.  I was so scared I almost blacked out.  I can only remember that awful shitty smell.  It smelled like a big ol’ greasy fart in that sack.  When I could think again I found a little snag in the bag and worked it into a little peephole.
    When I looked out I couldn’t believe I was still in Santa Fe.  I was in some sleazy part of town like I never saw even in Albuquerque.It was like all built up and decaying with black sooty shit all over everything.  I could hear this music that sounded like some kind of creaking hell. I got hauled through a door and went by these rooms where these big women were doing weird sex things with animals and shit while these wierdos watched and jerked off.  I went through one room after another seeing shit I don’t even want to describe.
    And then, BANG!, I hit the ground hard.  I heard a room full of deep gravelly voices and stale breath.  I stayed as quiet and still as I could in the bag and nobody paid no attention to me.  I hoped they thought I was dead.  They were laughing and like talking in another language so I couldn’t tell what they said or even if they knew I was in the room.   After what seemed like a million years one of them ripped apart my sack.  I was too scared to move especially after hearing all the noise they made when they saw me and ESPECIALLY AFTER SEEING THEM!
    They were BIG; tall as basketball players but as buff as football players and U-GLY!  (not ugly like the homeys are always saying about the assholes, but really ugly).  Like looking at them made me want to spew, but I was too scared.  It was like I was just stuck and I didn’t even move when one of them (probably the one that carried me) came after me with a long curved knife.
    And here’s where I lose everybody. . .he used that fucking knife to cut my fucking head off!  And it wasn’t all eerie and painless or nothing like in a dream.  It hurt like hell!  Somehow I stay alive and thinking and my eyes watched as the blood came gushing out of my twitching body.  I knew that I must have been dead but I could still see and feel everything.  I could even taste the blood coming up from my severed throat.  But, killing me like that wasn’t enough for them.  All of them got busy ripping me apart and I felt every tear in my skin, every rip in my muscles and the breaking of my bones.  Actually, none of my bones ever got cracked..  The bones were pulled apart like they were even being careful with my bones while they tore into my flesh with their hands and teeth.  It’s not like they were all that hungry. They to be going after the bones.  After they got my eyes I could only feel what was happening through my bones.  That was all I had left.
    I felt those monsters chewing a licking every bit of blood and sinew from me.  I can still smell the stink of their breath and spit coming up from deep inside myself while I’m telling you this (like those guys never used dental floss or even brushed their teeth).  When even the last of my brains were gone they tossed me, skull and all, into a big pot of boiling water.  The pain I felt from the heat ached more deeply than anything I had ever felt before. After I was all cooked and cleaned those guys each took a selection of my bones and would talk to them, sing to them and even kiss them and all.  The sounds made me feel all itchy and goosey.  Then they each sort of got into a line and the leader (the guy who snagged me) took the bones and stacked them up until I was a perfect skeleton.  I think he put them back together better than I was before because the back problems I had been having don’t bug me no more.  Then they pulled these oozy looking bags from some cabinets that were at floor level all around the room..  Those bags were all full of body parts and shit.  They all helped putting me back together like they was working on a low-rider and all.
    After what seemed to be about a week, there I was standing there all naked and still not moving.  It wasn’t like it was because I was all scared or nothing.  I just couldn’t move; not until the main man gave me a rough slap on the back of the neck.  They offered me something with an awful sweet smell to drink but I shook my head “no.”  Then they gave me another whack and, the next thing I know, I was waking up all cold and naked to my homeys in that big ol’ drain pipe in the arroyo.  They were clowning around with me like I had been stoned and all.  Even today, that’s all anybody thinks happened; that I was just stoned out of my mind.  Yeah? . . . Well, but what about my back.  And I see better now too; like I mean in more ways than one.
    Anyway, I slept for about two weeks and my body ached.  It was like having growing pains but like all over.  Even my hair hurt.  I still feel some aching but now it’s only deep down in my bones.  It hurts mostly when I feel like I really got something to say.  But then, I can’t find no way to say it.  My bones ache like blueballs when you don’t cum.  And then I make these stories just to get my point across and something makes it and I feel a little better, but I’m always aching a little.
    I know I’m not nothing special even back when my homeys were making a lot of me.  I don’t think I’m the only person this has ever happen to.  Like when I’m hanging out at the mall and looking at all the people I think I can spot the one who got “over-hauled” like me.  It’s like they belong in another world.  And that’s just how I feel.  Everything that seemed like such a big deal to me before seems kind of pointless.  I really can’t stand it when the homeys are all talking big about death and shit.  I been there and they don’t know shit.  Those others I see at the mall look back at me like they’re about to say something but can’t.  I can feel what they mean in my bones.  I’ll bet they don’t even know what happened to them.  They took that sweet-smelling drink and it made them forget.  I didn’t, but who cares, because nobody believes me anyway.