Twisted Roads – Twisted Horror Stories by Matthew Tonks

Look at Me

You’re going to ask, I know, so instead of waiting, I’ll tell you how my life got so fucked up. It started pretty ordinarily. One moment, I was waiting outside for Sam, my girl, to finish work. Anyway, we’d made plans to pick up a two-five on the way home and spend the next few hours watching season two of Rick and Morty. That’s when he came up to me. Had I known what was going to happen, I would’ve told her to meet me at Bagan’s, but instead, I waited.

At first, he was just standing against the building, acting like I wasn’t there. Then he asked me if I was interested in testing out a new super herb that was coming onto the market, guaranteed to blow your mind. I said no. I mean, I didn’t know him—he could’ve been an undercover D for all I knew. Then he came up to me, looked me dead in the eyes, and said he wasn’t a cop. The crazy fucker pulled up his shirt, spun around, showing me his gaunt, pale frame, proving he had no wires, and repeated his question. I said no again—it wasn’t my thing—and told him to find somewhere else to peddle his wares. That’s when he pulled out the bag, and my eyes couldn’t help but widen. There was at least a couple of ounces in there. He smiled and asked again.

I stammered the same response from before—that I wasn’t interested, that I was waiting for my girl and we’d be going home soon. He opened the bag and pulled out the biggest, stickiest bud I’d ever seen and held it toward me. I looked around and told him to put it away, as people would see. He laughed, saying he didn’t care who saw him. He pushed it right under my nose and told me to take a whiff. I had to—you have to understand—there was no real choice in the matter. I mean, if some guy came up to you with a bud that big, you’d do the same.

My nose ran, my eyes watered, my mouth became dry, and I swear, I had the munchies—it was instant. He placed the bud back into the bag and passed it to me. I said no again, but he pushed it into my hand and said it was mine. All I had to do was call him tomorrow and tell him what it was like. Then he handed me a card and said not to forget to call him. I promised. Then he was gone.

Five minutes later, Sam knocked off work, and we walked home. I told her all about the guy, the bag, the bud, and what he had said. She said I was crazy and there was no way she was going to touch that stuff. She suggested we call in and see Bagan and ask him about it.

That’s pretty much where the story ends. I mean, well, it ends here, because that’s where we’re at—surrounded by DEA agents and Bagan telling me I’m going to be dead real soon.