Of Pisco and Peru: Iquitos Pt. 11
“Uh... um, I’m pretty new at this.”
“It’s just a vaporizer. I got some fresh balloons as well.” He carefully reaches over the mess and pulls up a large balloon with a stick figure stamp with a weird scowl.
“Uhhh... I’m not sure how that works.”
A smile. There’s something familiar about him, right up to the face. I always have trouble with faces.
He puffs away on his joint like it’s the finest Cuban cigar. “Suit yourself. Magdalena tells me you’re looking for an Ayahuasca trip.”
“Is it safe? I’ve heard people have died.”
He looks at the joint twirling between his cadaver-like fingers. I can’t place him. He’s like a Colonel Kurtz-type who got lost in the Amazon and was forced to survive off LSD-laced weed.
“Aye. One guy died in a motorcycle accident after a ceremony. Another, tobacco poisoning...”
I tilt my head.
“... another guy choked on his own vomit...”
Wait a minute. Wasn’t the light on in the other room? Did I turn it off?
“... another guy named Stevens, poor bastard. He did a private Ayahuasca ceremony in his room. Around nine PM, this dude named Gomez left the group ceremony and went to Stevens’ room where he attacked him...”
Can’t be.
“According to witnesses, Gomez appeared “possessed”. It all came to a head in the kitchen. With Stevens fearing for his life...”
It’s ‘Troy.’
“He stabbed Gomez with a kitchen knife. Killed him dead right there on the floor.”
I take a gulp and fake a smile. “I’m guessing they ate out that night?”
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