Acid

"So what was it that you did last night?"

"Well it all started when I was sitting on the couch reading the Satanic Verses by Salman Rushdie, but that was already in the afternoon."

"What does that have to do with it?"

"Well, while I was reading my book I kind of remembered that I still had a strip of Acid lying in the drawer of my desk."

"And you were planning to take it?"

"Yes, but actually I was planning to take it and to read some more in the book, I thought it would really get me into it. Unfortunately enough several people came into the kitchen, distracting me from my book and eventually I put it aside and decided to cycle around for a bit."

"That's a rigorous chance of plans all of a sudden."

"Well yeah, I think you give in to impulses more easily while being on drugs, especially with a creative drug like LSD."

"And did you just cycle around, or did you get anywhere in the end?"

"I drove all the way to Dam square, where I parked my bike, took some photographs and I even made a short clip of a guy who was constantly flicking his fingers towards the sun and walking around."

"I wonder if he took anything."

"Me too, but anyway, I walked around a little bit through the centre of the city and even gave directions to some people and they didn't look at me in awkward way or anything, people did start to look at me when I was getting back to my bike and I was smiling from ear to ear for no apparent reason."

"Well, it does not seem that it harmed them."

"No, unless they got blinded by the whiteness of my teeth."

"Ha, I guess not, since they are not so white, you fucking druggie."

"Hé, who are you calling a druggie?"

"Well, you just heard me, didn't you?"

"I most certainly did, but.."

"So why you're asking?"

"Oh, sod off, you're just as much of a drug (ab)user as I am."

"I know."

"Oh, it is good that you know, so what were you making all the fuss for at first?"

"I wasn't making any fuss."

"Yes you were."

"No, I wasn't."

"Fuck, don't you want to know how my drugged day continued?"

"I wonder if it's me who wants to hear the story or whether it's just you who wants to tell it no matter what."

"I always tell interesting stories, so you might not be aware yet of the genious of this particular story, but you soon will if you allow me to finish it."

"Be my guest."

"So I got back to my bike and I cycled back to my place. It seemed to go almost effortlessly and at some point I was going uphill to cross the Amstel and I saw some people ahead of me."

"And you probably thought, I'm going to get these motherfuckers?"

"Exactly, I sped up and I took 'em all down, including a disabled guy, with an arched back, who couldn't have possibly kept up with me."

"Don't you feel bad about these things?"

"Yes, for a microsecond I do and after that I think, ah fuck how was I supposed to know that he was going to cycle here and I raced right past him and I laughed, because the world is so good to me."

"Did he hear it?"

"I don't know, I don't really care actually, at least not at that moment."

"I thought that LSD made you loving and caring."

"It makes me even more anti-social."

"As long as you are aware of it."

"I am, but it is not that I do a lot with it."

"Well, suit it yourself."

"Will do, anyway I was going to tell you an interesting story, but I completely lost track of what I wanted to say."

"Are you still on Acid?"

"I'm sorry, I'm afraid that if I would tell you, I'd have to kill you."

"That's very unfortunate."

"Why is that?"

"Because I have to take you in and when I show you my badge you'll feel sorry for everything you've just told me." [Flashes badge]

"What the fuck?" [Drops jaw]

"Do you feel sorry?"

"Not just yet, but I might in a minute."

"Now, let's do this gently, so no one has to get hurt."

"Do you want me to put your hands where I can see them?"

"No, I want your hands where I can see them."

"That's unfortunate."

"Why is that?"

"Because I've got a handgun in my pocket which I'm getting out now [gets out handgun from pocket], which has a bullet in it which I carefully polished before writing your name on it."

"That's very thoughtful of you."

"Well, thank you, it's a shame though that you will not live to see the craft, art and effort I have put into writing your name."

"I can imagine, so how did you manage to write 'Constantine' on it?"

"Well at first I thought of making your name into the abbreviation: 'Con.', but that would have been too ironic, now wouldn't it have been."

"I agree, I don't know whether I would be really thankful. Your name was much easier by the way, Max."

"What d'ya mean?"

"In case you hadn't noticed, which you obviously haven't, but I came prepared, of course."

"Illuminate me."

"Well, if you care to come a little bit closer, I can explain it all to you in minute detail."

[Max comes closer and gets shot in the gut.]

"What the fuck just happened?" [Blood drips from his lip, to be more precise from the left side of his mouth, that is to the point of view of Max and from the point of view of the viewer that would be the right side of the mouth.]

"I expected you to wear your famous woolen trousers again."

"What the fuck has that got to do with it?" [talks a bit difficult and has to use his hands to prevent himself from falling of the table.]

"Well I put some Velcro on your seat and attached that to a wire, which you do not really see."

"Ingenious bastard."

"Yeah well, I've got a wire in my hand as well, but just to be sure that you wouldn't walk out of here alive, I just thought I'd set up a trap and so I did."

"Well, you've got me now, but hé, I'm not dead yet."

"I've got plenty of time."