Living the High Life in the Dead Room

American Daze Purple Haze lived alone in a bungalow in Upstate New York with Memories of S. They woke up together, spent the day talking about their life of many years together, shared cocktail hour and went to bed together. This went on for two years.

As the months dragged on American Daze Purple Haze became more and more depressed. One morning he told Memories of S that he was going to look for an apartment in another state and try and rejoin society. Memories of S said that sounded like a good idea, time to move on and all that stuff.

She asked him what state he was moving to and he said New Hampshire because of the liberal gun laws as opposed to New York where you can’t buy a gun to save your life and Memories of S said, I hate guns. Why do you want a gun?

The revolution, said American Daze Purple Haze. Live Free or Die and all that.

Memories of S said straight out, I think you want a gun so you can shoot me. 

Are you insane! said American Daze Purple Haze, I would never shoot you, I will love you forever and be with you forever.

Well, let’s not get carried away, said Memories of S. She was not the sentimental type, always practical and down to earth. American Daze Purple Haze was the sentimental one, a dreamer and a romantic.

And then Memories of S asked, Are you going to shoot yourself?

Well, since you mention it, I suppose, said American Daze Purple Haze, when I feel the time is right.

It works out the same, said Memories of S, if you shoot yourself you also kill me, and you said you would never do that.

Hmmm, said American Daze Purple Haze, you always were the logical one.

So what are you going to do, Socrates? asked Memories of S.

American Daze Purple Haze said, Just stay here, I guess, and not buy a gun.

To hell with the revolution, said Memories of S. Look, it’s five o’clock, how about you fix us a couple of cocktails and roll a joint and I’ll meet you in the living room.

You mean the dead room.

Whatever.

American Daze Purple Haze made the drinks and rolled a joint and got back on the not-so-merry merry-go-round.

That is one sad merry-go-round. There’s no one on it.

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