Officer, this is my statement.
I hope you've got somebody taking it all down, even though it'll read
even crazier than it sounds. But I swear it's the truth.
The thing started yesterday
around noon. I'm in this lunchroom with a cup of coffee on the counter
and wondering about when I'd eat next. This cat comes in and sits down
next to me. He's got on jeans, sandals, a peace medal and a beard -
I mean he looks just like anybody else, see? The guy orders a cop of
tea and starts talking to me. Says he just got in from Los Angeles.
I tell him a little about the town and pretty soon the talk gets around
to general topics. I ask what he thinks about the Viet Nam scene. He
starts off slow and lays it on the line for about half an hour, no sh--
- excuse me, Officer. Anyhow, he's going on about peace all over, the
end of wars and how everyone should be brothers and how there shouldn't
be any draft cards for those poor slobs to burn. The man really has
me psyched, believe me, I mean I'm in a trance taking in what he's puttin'
down. I tell him my name. He says his father's Mexican, so he's stuck
with some crazy tag like Hey-zoo or something. But I should call him
Pancho, everybody does.
He asks me are there any
Diggers around, he needs something to chew on and a place to flop. So
I take him to see some guys I know, a couple blocks across town. There's
about twenty guys who live in this bare four-room place, and they'll
give you anything they have. On the way over Pancho starts telling me
about God and Buddha and Zoroaster, and how they're all the same. He
says how all religions, and even no religion at all, are all doors to
the same place. It's really beautiful, you know, and I'd listen all
day but we're at the place.
The guys feed Pancho and
me out of this kettle of stew they keep going on the hot plate all the
time. Pancho says he's changed his mind about wanting a place to sleep.
He asks for a smoke and I hand him the whole pack. He tosses them back
and walks over to the door and turns around facing us. He gets real
serious then and gives out a lot of old-world talk about how he was
hungry and we fed him, naked and we clothed him (although that wasn't
strictly true) and I don't know what else. Then he takes off.
Anyhow, you guys have got
me down here for possession of the Weed and I can't deny it since all
those lab people say the stuff is really pot. All I know is, when I
handed that pack to Pancho, it was full of just plain Chesterfields.