Stoned cockroaches.

Aurangabad, 12-02-1995. Since Rasta-Hair-John was getting low on charas, it was my turn to make a score. Not all that difficult in Pune. Whatever these sanyassins might be, they do have a keen business mind....We found an aged sanyassin hanging around the Osho Ahsram who toke us back to his place, a dirty and dingy hotel room, smelly like hell because nobody had bothered to clean his toilet for the last 100 years or so. Sitting down on his bed, the only furniture in the room and with a single blanket full with jumping bedbugs, we had ourselves a little chilam party checking out the quality of his dope before buying a tola. Having to put up with arrogant cockroaches was ineveitable, these little bugs were so bold they shamelessly scurried over our feet and even jumpen into our laps. Maybe it were the abundant charas fumes that got to their little bug minds, got them stoned out of their insect brians, made them brave like a sioux warrior about ready to attact general Custer and his army of Blue Bellies. I decided to let these little critters get away with it instead of swatting them to a bloody pulp.