Fear & Loathing In The Sunshine State Episode 2: Life On The Road, The Snake Reveals Himself, Caged Like An Animal With No Hope Of Escape

It had been long days and nights of chasing the shadows of ghosts. A Car wreck here, signs of distilled madness there. All of them without the crucial ingredient; meaning. Momster drove me to scene after scene. Craziness, Carnage & Debauchery. Few words from her, save for the carefully staged questions in between silences.

Who the fuck do you think you are?
Are you a fed?
You think I won’t put a bullet in your skull?

She photographed the madness and I scribbled indecipherable notes that I knew I would never look at again for the life of me. Days became a week, the week became a fortnight. Suddenly halfway through the 15th day, she jerked violently off Highway 27, near some up-stakes Highlands type Wasp-reserve, fit for only the worst type of inbred tourist-centric jet-trash known to man.

She stared ahead into the overgrowth, expecting me to pick up automatically on her instinct. Potter Freaks, she muttered like it was a disgusting crime to even emit the words. I looked ahead and saw it all fullscreen.

They were middle-aged and obese as the day is long, draped head-to-toe in black cloaks that were stained in violent shameful splodges of protein. They copulated pathetically with tears in their eyes, waving wands back and forth, and all the while screaming jumbled-up half-attempts at magic spell-speak.

This was the terrible legacy that a certain shit-head, bespectacled wizard had left on an otherwise reputable God-fearing state; robed weirdos fucking one another in a desperate re-enactment of someone else’s on-screen adventures.


I watched this, and the liberal in me reeled back within myself like a shriveling ball-sack. I saw all the negative rhythms and roaring inadequacies of an ideology gone horribly awry; a Jonestown cult in the genesis, complete with costumes, merchandise, and a fever-dream belief in the absolute and unimaginable.

Parents who told them they could be whatever they damn-well wanted, so long as they kept quiet and kicked their mental illness down the road for someone else to deal with…

It was while reflecting on this that a knock came on the window. Mans knuckles, connected to a mans arm. He was beautiful, I cannot deny. A mountain-boy for sure, cut from a far-stranger cloth than the rest of u. Smooth & sublime.

Snake; the only Snake, bulging and perfect. He sashayed into the car like he owned it from day 1, instantly whisking up Momsters attention without even trying. It was as though he’d been waiting 1,000 years for us to park in that exact spot, knowing we’d be there and fall hopelessly in lust with his excellence.


I need to shit, he said without hesitation. Let’s go, swing a left and keep driving until I say otherwise. Momster obliged and we spent the better part of an hour gliding through the back-ass of Floridian fuck-knows-where in search of a pad that we didn’t even know existed. At some stage during the trip Snake had shoved a pistol in my side and threatened to blow my guts out lest we follow his exact commands.

Tension gave way to outright unmistakable weirdness; odysseys through the underbelly of a grandiose Floridian Hell-scape. People smashing machines without reason. Fingers clawing against the glass in futility. This was a foul & unprecedented territory for a journalist of my stature, and way beyond my prerogative as a documentarian.

You’re outside your pay-packet now, my friend, he said almost sympathetically, shaking his head. I told him I was a journalist and here to cover the illegal dolphin meat trade, to which he shook his head dis-credulously. You’re here because I willed it, he said smiling. Nothing in this cosmos happens by chance. The Black Star brings you to me. You are my pale disciple.

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He clutched me by the sides of my skull. The negroes will take you, he said eyes beaming in to mine, but I will always be your king. Never forget that.

Eventually we parked at what would be my rape-mansion for the next week. A small , mistakable bungalow in the depths of West Florida. Momster, now completely under his influence cable-tied my ass and hauled me singlehandedly into the living room. You should have stayed at home, she said reluctantly. This is what becomes of fools…

Snake now smeared himself in a brown translucent fluid, while several toned-out black men formed a terrifying line in front of my incapacitated form. This was the moment, me tied up into myself like a human doughnut, that I knew reality and normality would forever take a back-seat so long as I existed.

This is a whole new paradigm, I thought to myself, while the first negro screamed and plunged deep in my ass. Snake laughed as I screamed, knowing the night would go on exactly as prophesied…