juzy (juzy) wrote,

Про два листика

Rastaman folk tales: About two leaves

Here it is - one more story about an old rastaman. He strolled down the flea market, making fun of everything around. And everything is so funny out there! Funny puppies, funny kittens, all kinds of bikes, Chinese-made radios, ghetto blasters, some flashlights... music is playing everywhere, people are smiling and babbling something illegible but still funny. Wow, it's so cool when the spring is came and everybody's smiling. Even if you got no money, it's still cool.

So he was strolling around making fun and smelled a steakhouse from the right. And smelled a hot dog stand from the left. The pig woke up in his stomach and said: "Oink?" But the rastaman answered: "Yoink! Slow down, you ridiculous animal, let's have a lunch at home. I have no money neither for a steak, nor for a hotdog, not even for a popcorn."

The pig repeated: "Oink! Stop selling me bullshit, old rastaman! No money, no money... Take this jackson out of your pocket and buy me a steak A-S-fucking-A-P!"

The rastaman said: "Well, yeah. I indeed have twenty dollars. But I can live whole five days on this money, and it we eat a steak now - so what? Let me buy you some popcorn. Or a hot dog."

But the pig is a stubborn animal and don't want to even consider any popcorn. It stamps its feet, squeals all over the market: "I WANT A STEAK! I WANT A STEAK! I WANT A STEAK!" and forces him to go to the steakhouse. But he's not a whimsical kid anymore, he's an old rastaman, and should be the master of his own pig. He stopped and said: "Listen up, you pig. Go to hell! Why you got into a habit of counting money in my pockets? To spite you I will spend this money on... well, I'll spend them on what I want." Saying that, he boldly turned away from the steakhouse and narrowly looked in front of him...

...and saw a marvelous plant. No, not the one you just thought about, but a really funny one. It grows in an old olive-oil tin and it is so bushy and branchy, with countless leaves on it, and all those leaves are, like, glowing from the inside. Such small round leaves, not like anything else's, but they look really drugged. So, this thing is standing on the counter, shimmering like emeralds, and it's so funny that even the pig shut up and stopped to bitch. What a darn cool plant!

There is a seedy old man behind the counter. The rastaman asked him: "What's the... plant it is?" The old man answered: "It's a coca bush, son."

Then, the rastaman asked: "Really, a coca bush?" Old man answered: "Really, really. Coca bush." The rastaman asked him: "Is your coca bush expensive?" Old man said: "No, it's not expensive, just twenty dollars." And blandly looks right to the eyes, like he understands everything.

The rastaman said: "Wow, man, how do you know that I've got a jackson?" Old man said: "You, son, look exactly like twenty dollars." Astonished by such an insight, the rastaman took out his jackson and bought the coca bush. Of course, he immediately pinched off two leaves and chewed them up. So, he's coming home and listens to his feelings: does it make me high? Or does not? He's kinda feeling some symptoms - but it's kinda no symptoms at all. Or is it? Well, maybe, there is something, but who knows, how it is supposed to be, this mysterious coke high. And he can't ask for an advice because nobody knows.

The rastaman came home still thinking does it make him high or not. He already drank some tea and rolled a joint but didn't smoke it because otherwise he won't understand do those leaves make him high or not. Probably it highs or probably it don't but he already feels so uneasy, fidgeting on the chair, tattooing and dangling feet - like something is totally wrong with this world.

The rastaman looked around and suddenly realized what's wrong with this world. There is an UNWASHED CUP on the table! Alongside of it there is an unwashed spoon, a dirty dish with mummified food scrapings... What an ugly mess on the dining - oh boy, dining! - table! It's not even possible to survive this horror!

The rastaman leapt on his feet and rushed to wash the cup. By the way, it was a whole-month-worth of dirty dishes in the sink - so he washed them all. Then, he cleaned up the table. And he cleaned the stove and the fridge. And he washed the floor and the window, dusted the ceiling and even washed curtains - wow! He hanged curtains to dry and immediately felt asleep.

He woke up in the morning, like at 7AM, and thought: "Wow! Cool!" Because, you know, it's cool indeed. He went to the kitchen to munch something - and, wow! The kitchen is sparkling clean! The fridge is like brand-new! The window is shining! The floor is so clean he didn't even dare to step on it with dirty feet!

The rastaman looks at all this cleanliness and suddenly recalls how he slept last night: on a stinky grey bed sheet, wrapping himself into a stinky dusty blanket... and the pillowcase - it's already became green because it was used as a filter when cooking magic milk - and they drank this dirty crap - ewww! Well, he puked all over his place instead of having breakfast then started to clean it up, do the laundry, throw away the garbage and fulfill other useful household chores.

At this time, his friends-rastamen came over, so he tried to voluntell them to give him a hand. They said: "Calm down, man - let's smoke instead." But he said: "Wait a sec, wait a sec. Let's clean it up a little bit - then smoke." And he's, like, not stopping for even a second - working with a mop then with a duster then with a broom... Rastamen looked at this weird enthusiasm - and left quietly. The old rastaman cleaned up the entire apartment - and felt asleep.

He wakes up next morning and sees that the apartment is clean like an operating-room and even the toilet shines like a Jedi Knight sword. He thinks: "Wow! What a feat! That's fucking awesome! With such a mindset I can probably even get a job!"

He chewed up two leaves and went to apply for a job. He came and told to HR people: "Gimme the coolest job you have!" They asked him: "Who are you at all?" The rastaman answered: "I am a tractor, a nuclear reactor, a jack-of-all-trades, an ace of spades!" They started to laugh but he told: "Stop laughing! Gimme a job or I'll blow up like an inflatable Batman!"

They started to laugh even louder but told him: "Well, the ace of spades, come tomorrow to meet with the executives, and you'll get a cool job." He returned home and, when at night his friends-rastamen came over he told them that he got a job. They congratulated him and presented a huge bag of premium weed. But the old rastaman told: "Sorry, I'm off for tonight. Smoke it on the balcony - but with closed door, because tomorrow is my first day on a new job and, you know... I should do my best."

The friends resented a little bit and said: "Probably we'd better go smoke outside?" The old rastaman said: "Well, you know... Take no offence but... Indeed, you can smoke on the balcony... But if you want to go outside, it's even better. Because, you know..."

Friends said: "Well-well-well, we understand..." And they got lost. The old rastaman went to bed immediately. In the morning, he chewed up two leaves and came to work. There is a plenty of work out there - well, the rastaman really got into it. Every morning he chews up two leaves and works hard all day then comes home at night and goes to bed. Two more leaves the next morning and back to work. Two more leaves and back to work. Two more leaves and back to work...

He spent whole spring like that. And all the summer. Then the fall, the winter, the spring again - and the coca bush still grows and grows up. And the rastaman still works and works, works and works, works and still fucking works! The friends already gave up on him: he's done already... They don't come over or give him a call anymore.

Once the rastaman received just another paycheque. As usually, he put it into the shoebox - but it doesn't fit anymore. It's, like, so full of cash that even the cover doesn't close. The rastaman thought: "Why the fuck I am still working and working? Isn't it a good time to have a rest? Tomorrow, I won't chew those two leaves anymore but smoke up and take a day off... or even a vacation... or even quit the job." Thinking about that, the old rastaman fell asleep,.

Okay. In the morning he woke up, rolled a joint, licked it meditatively, twiddled it between his fingers... then put it aside, chewed up two leaves and went to work, thinking on the way: "Oh my god, what's wrong with me? I just wanted to have a rest... It's an addiction! I need to detox!"

After thinking that, he went to an addiction clinic. An addiction counselor told him: "You are looking great, the old rastaman! Let me guess - you enrolled to a gym, found a job and quitted to smoke pot?"

The rastaman told: "I would rather smoke pot. The pot is not a drug: you smoke it when you want and quit it when you don't. I've got a different addiction and now I'm totally lost. The problem is - I BECAME ADDICTED TO COCAINE!"

The counselor said: "It doesn't look like that. Cocaine addicts are usually look antsy, with watery eyes and pale face. And you have healthy face, clear look and firm step. Maybe, it's not cocaine but Herbalife?"

The rastaman said: "I dunno. Probably, it is Herbalife. It's a kind of bush - you chew up two leaves of it, go to work, and work until you fall asleep, the next day again - two leaves and go to work. And all the life passes like that! Just imagine it - Mr. Addiction Counselor: all the life passes like that and you can't even quit it!"

The counselor said: "Well, it is called the normal life. All normal people live like that - even me. It may be an addiction but a very positive one, I guess."

The rastaman said: "No! This addiction is not positive! There are no positive addictions at all -because all human beings must be free! People should work if they want or don't work if they don't want to - this is the right way. But when you are still working but already don't want to - this is a real drug addiction!"

The counselor said: "OK. Let's call it an addiction if you wish. Give me your two leaves and I'll send it to the lab. We'll see what kind of narcotic it is, and then decide what to do."

Okay then. The rastaman gave him two leaves, went home and felt asleep. In the morning, the counselor calls him and says: "Take it easy, the old rastaman! Your leaves are totally clean. No drugs, not alkaloids and even no Herbalife! You can chew it if you want - it won't harm you."

And hangs up the phone. The rastaman looks at the bush, pinches off two leaves, smells them for some reason, puts them on the table and calls the counselor back, saying: "I understand that those leaves have no drugs in them - but what about the work addiction? How I got into this trouble?"

The counselor told him: "Well, it is already out of my competence. Maybe, you just finally became mature..."

The rastaman is outraged: "What the fucking maturity are you talking about? I'm not motherfucking old! I'm not even 40 - my whole life is in front of me!" He opened his stash, took a joint and...

...puffed it up with a terrific pleasure - like taking a sip of oxygen! It wrapped, pumped and raised him so high that he flied away like a little green cloud to the morning city, to the wild spring, to the boundless freedom, to the friends and the girlfriends... He forgot this entire "work" thing as a nightmare and presented the bush with non-drugged leaves to the counselor. Soon, the counselor moved to the capital city and became the superstar addiction counselor. He treated movie stars, musicians, TV hosts and Members of Parliament - even foreign presidents! He helped everybody, made a huge fortune and became world famous. But, of course, it's doesn't have anything to do with those leaves - this talent is given only to few. Everybody is unique.

Source: http://rastaman.tales.ru/?page=3&menu1=1&menu2=5&smenu1=4&inctext=12

Original Russian text: (c) HighDuke
English translation: (c) juzy
Tags: rastaman folk tales, растаманские народные сказки

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