That deadly nutmeg tree


As I thought quietly to myself about the day, I wondered what would become of it. Looking over to the shelf, I picked up a binder of jottings. Not interested in reading the whole thing, I opened it and began to read several paragraphs from the first page. ✤ For authenticity's sake, any part of a story read, must be documented in full. If you do not wish to read it, as you feel it may deter you from the actual story, then you may skip over it. Don't worry, I won't give you a failing grade! I will say this, however;
to truly document an entire day without any thoughts fluctuating past the
given moment would be highly inconclusive. It would be a stable read,
I'm sure, but it would not be an accurate account of that day. ✤

It was the fall of 1981, and I was living in Annadale with mom and Ray. My parents had left for the weekend with the brown & white Shasta trailer that they hooked up to the old Karmann Ghia and dragged down to Shohola Falls. It was about 5:30 when I picked my friend Dave up at his house. He wanted to celebrate his most recent job as a New York City Transit Authority token clerk, but couldn't quite figure out where to go or what to do. I, having ended a torrid love affair with my former girlfriend Sharon had no intention of consummating another disastrous relationship for awhile. Sharon who was as promiscuous as she was revealing is now somebody else's headache, while Dave's girlfriend Luisa broke up with him due to a more personal matter. He wanted her to have the baby, and she didn't want to be tied down, so instead of nurturing it, she murdered it before telling David he should find someone else. Someone more mature,
I think she meant older. Finally, he found it within himself to move on.
It was only natural.

I drove from his house to my house and throughout the whole car ride, he just would not let up about the failed relationship. When finally we arrived at my house, it appeared that all was calm. Then he started up again until I became depressed. After a mild lamentation about Luisa and the baby he would never see. His baby boy or girl, what color would it eyes have been, and that four letter word which begins with a "C" and ends with a "T" repeated time and again behind moist eyes. I knew now that we would not be going out to any club tonight, and so I decided it would be best at this point if we just stayed inside. Some time elapsed before we hopped in my Grandfather's old car, which is now my stepfather's new car and drove to the nearest Sav-on. I picked out a warm but friendly case of America's favorite rice beer and carried the rectangular box under my arm to the counter where I laid it down. It then occurred to me as I was studying
the design, why this beer is so popular. Because it is red, white and blue, resembles the American flag and is the most refreshing beer on the
entire planet! As I was examining some of the smaller text, a couple
of rapscallions playing tug of war pulled apart a rather large bag of
M&M's scattering them everywhere! Ah, the joys of parenting!!!

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I then displayed my identification to the cashier where I paid for the beer, and we left. From there we stopped at Vittorino's and ordered a pizza pie. I parked the 1972, black Galaxy 500 alongside the house, turned off the engine and went inside. The time was now nearing seven. I put the entire box in the large yellow stand up freezer and waited a good hour before going down to retrieve it. Dave was saying how much Luisa loved Budweiser and this would be the first one he's having without her. I then pulled two cans out and put them on the table. Dave hastily goes to open his and the ring tab snaps off! Dave starts laughing insidiously and says, "That cunt! She put the curse on me." She didn't put a curse on you Dave, I'll get the can opener. After it happened again I said, On second thought,
I take that back. She did put the curse on you!

Halfway through the case I made a ridiculous suggestion. Look man, it's only a quarter after ten, I have an idea. My mom has an unopened tin of nutmeg in the cabinet. I heard that nutmeg can pack a pretty sweet punch! Dave began to laugh and told me I was unequivocally out of my fucking mind. Okay I said and slapped twenty dollars on the table. If we don't get buzzed you keep the money. Fine he said, let's do it. We boiled some water and proceeded to pour it in the blender. Tapping the can of nutmeg slowly, we watched the gritty powder fall into the water while the motor ran. The water soon turned oily and had an overwhelming industrial solvent smell. Oh God I thought, what are we doing? This is going to be like drinking Mr. Clean! I stopped the motor and all the ingredients sank to the bottom of the blender and became one mass. Seeing that it could not be poured, being that it had a consistency of sand, Dave uttered in a very despondent and baritone voice, "get the spoon."

We waited for the liquid to cool before eating it with great effort.
Needless to say, each spoonful went down like noxious poison and burned the back of our throats. We gagged and nearly puked throughout the entire endeavor but managed to keep it down without vomiting. After the ordeal, I reached into the fridge and pulled us out two beers each. Drink fast I said, you're about to lose this race! Dave was ahead for the first stretch, but as he began belching uncontrollably, I soared ahead to
the finish line! "Your just-a son-of-a-bitch" he said with an animated face
while looking blindly toward the floor and shaking his head adamantly!
We continued to drink the rest of our beers, though our tongues
and throats were numb and our stomachs queasy.

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From out of nowhere Dave begins laughing! "I can't get over those two kids! Did you see the size of that bag?" I know, they were all over the damn place and one even went down the back of my shirt! What a raucous those little bastard's made! "And how!" It was around twelve thirty when Dave phoned for a cab. He said he had a lot of things to do tomorrow and left. I apologized for the grand fiasco and assumed the nutmeg had been counteracted by the beer and that's why the night had fallen into ruin. He told me to replace the can with a new one and said he was not going to take the money. The cab finally arrived at a quarter after one and Dave was gone. I had another beer alone in the quiet kitchen where I tried to figure out what went so terribly wrong.

Saturday morning upon waking is how this story begins. My eyes sprung open like an automated device on spring levers, while I lay there motionless, neck moving like an insect. This new head of mine felt more like a balloon filled with air than my old head, and my face appeared to be distorted, like a surreal mask had been put on while I was sleeping. One that was not my own. It seemed as though when I looked forward, I was, in fact, utilizing more peripheral vision than I should have been. Almost like my regular eyesight was now somewhat obscured and when I observed myself in the mirror, I couldn't see the details of my face but instead, something more disturbing. My eyes flicked open and closed at
a sharper rate, due to the increase in shutter speed, and each of them was now filled with an indiscernible amount of sticky liquid. Microscopic to
a viewer behind the mirror in my room, but logical in theory, I attest! They were not irritated, and they did not hurt. They were simply uncomfortable, and I would have kept them closed for the remainder of the day had that been possible. Not to mention they were 4x their normal size!

(((It waits for you to wake up!!!)))

The hairs on my head did not feel right to me at all. They were too stiff and bristly, like that of a boar or warthog and my bug face was now very similar to that of a fly, while my heart was going so fast I could no longer hear it. I was immensely concerned about what was going on but felt absolutely powerless to do anything to stop it. Like throwing yourself from a tall building and then realizing you made a mistake. Why the hell did I do this for, I thought as I panicked? There was a flash of light that appeared for a brief moment near my sternum and seemed to open me up at the middle of my chest, separating my being. There was nothing gross about it. Nothing red and disturbing from that aspect in the least.

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It was just so shocking to witness that it brought an intense level of distress to my system, and I did not know what was going to happen
next. In a matter of minutes the full effect of this drug would be realized. Without leading you astray, I can honestly say that in these moments of pure terror it felt as though a bomb had been surgically planted within my heart, set to detonate at an undisclosed time. I could now hardly breathe and my face, hands and arms were completely numb. As I anticipated my own death, I could only imagine the Lord God turning the flame up a little higher. "You did this to yourself, now you will never see my kingdom!"

The tragedy of my situation was coming into focus!!!

I was dying and not a human soul could save me. I tried to walk but my legs collapsed under their own weight. The more I tried to move about,
the worse everything became until it felt like the entire town was resting upon my chest, and it seemed like I was carrying the fortitude of the entire world with me as I ran full steam toward the stairs! At this point, my heart was going faster than Keith Moon could play. The fact that I knew what nutmeg was meant that I deserved what I was getting. David, on the other hand, was completely innocent in the matter. It was I, who pulled him into this, and I would answer for that dearly. David, who has an occasional drink every once in a while to stimulate his mood. David, who won't even smoke pot because it's illegal. Oh David, I do not think you will be ready for this.

Aside from being labeled a spice, nutmeg is in fact a very effective, fairly toxic, amphetamine-like psychedelic. What I didn't know at the time was that when taken in large quantities it can cause extreme psychosis, terrible nausea followed by palpitations leading to convulsions, severe liver damage and finally, cardiac arrest. Had I known all the facts, I never would have taken it. Even so, how was I to know the high was going to last more than forty eight hours?

I was standing in the eye of the storm;
a teaspoon more and I would have died for sure.

Dear Lord, if you are out there, I beg of thee; don't let go of me now!

Suddenly, I was surrounded by screaming sirens as I bounded for the staircase in a vain attempt to reach the telephone below. Four steps were all I could muster as I desperately clutched the railing for dear life. These dark grey cartoon teapots were tooting quite loudly as they taunted me inside my mind, where the sound of sirens abounded. I was flabbergasted to the point of diving out the nearest window but did not wish to succumb to injuries withstanding.

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He's trying to summon an ambulance. . .
An ambulance?
Yes, an ambulance!!!
We must stop him from calling this ambulance!
I will have his head!!!

These aerial creatures were acerbated to the point of boiling
as they bellowed aloud from the top of their infinite lungs
before abducting me into their sick and twisted musical.

He's running, he's running, he's getting away!
He's going too slow... He'll never escape!
Can't you all see that this boy is in fear?
Freeze in your tracks and get back over here!!!

I was in a state of complete and utter terror as I struggled back up
the steps and into my bedroom where I crouched down on the rug.
On both knees, I began to pray, and could almost sense God wanting
to smite me! Who can say for sure that the next life isn't going to be filled with these monsters, so I had to give myself at least a fighting chance to save my soul. It soon felt like there was a rope slung over the banister and three men were pulling it with all their might. I felt like I was slowly being hung and there was absolutely nothing I could do about it. I wasn't quite sure if I was even breathing anymore. If I was human anymore. In fact,
I knew only one thing. . . My heart was no longer beating. I know it must
be hard to fathom, but after two solid hours of mind wrenching torture,
I was going to be absolved of my sins.

Before I could say anything, I was reassured by the four dark grey
teapots who introduced themselves to me by name. It wasn't like a
person to person introduction. It was more along the lines of how you would envision a ghost, if you ever had the misfortune of running into one. In reality, I think I was listening to the wailing of my own conscience.

Hello, I'm teapot of the North - (sincere)
I'm teapot of the South! - (angry)
Hello Lad, I'm teapot of the East - (revered, mighty)
And I am teapot of the West, pleased to meet your
acquaintance! *tilting its lid* - (empyreal, inspiring)

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We do not mean to glorify our own standings by this haughty
behavior and aggrandizing at will, but you had to be stopped!
He was running for the telephone! Yes he was, he was running to the. . . And the confusion began again as the meeting of the teapots ran amok! Each one trying to speak over the other until it was nothing more than
pure unadulterated chaos.

My cardboard shell of a head now felt like it was only half there. The bottom half seemed to have disintegrated hours ago and those little black bugs that were still falling out of it were everywhere. I knew they were an illusion, unless however, the chemistry of my body, mixed in with the nutmeg created them. After a week of living like this, I'm sure I'd be completely mad, to a point of raving. I felt the back of my head, and it
felt like a light bulb. Okay, I'm still intact. Had I felt a rather large incision,
then I would not have been able to stop my brain from destroying me. Very soon, there would no longer be anything falling out of it. The pure unmitigated despair I felt in my heart must have been my soul burning
and so once again I prayed for God's mercy. I now realized in all my foolishness that there is no one on the face of the earth who is beyond reproach. Everyone will answer for themselves. I looked into the starry haze which had formed around my head, to see Jesus near the clouds in
a burgundy robe. He was handing someone a solid gold chalice 3/4 filled with deep red wine. The chalice appeared to have 4 large diamonds in the center on all four of its compass points. Then the image faded, and I was escorted back to my cell. My penance it seemed had not yet been fulfilled and so in this place of torment, I was bade to suffer some more. After about a half an hour the teapots stopped bickering and one said, "I think he is beginning to understand. The atrocity you have committed today
has been requiemed by prayer. Now do you see why we stopped you? Consider yourself saved from the torment of fire for you see, the good lord has once again bequeathed your soul." With that they vanished
as quickly as they came.

No longer would there be any ambiguity. No longer would there be anymore strife, I was free! The room was so quiet I could hear only the mild sound of my inner ears manufacturing their own noise. Kind of like the sound you hear the day after a loud concert. I looked at the clock and found that three hours had passed. My heart had begun beating again and was off the chart. Knowing that I would be allowed to live was far more than I could ever ask for and as strange as it may seem, I was now genuinely happy. If I were to die at this moment, I honestly believe
my soul would be in peace. Reunited in Heaven, at last!

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It wasn't long before the telephone rang! Although I now had the heart
and body of a ninety five year old man, I managed to find my way down the stairs and used all my energy just to answer it. Hello, I said to the muffled voice on the other end of the line and sure enough it was David! He told me he spent the better part of the morning cowering in bed and praying for salvation for he was stricken with interminable fear. You don't even believe in God, I said shocked! "I do now," he shouted!!! I told him the tale of the four dark grey teapots, and he began to laugh hysterically! Don't laugh I said to him through the communicator, this is serious business! "I'm sorry, don't take it personally or anything." He then continued to laugh wholeheartedly before telling me his story. "Listen you're not gonna believe this! My mother comes up with a cup of tea, right? All of a sudden, the phone rings, it's her friend Dottie. Do you know the only thing she said, on the phone, for the past hour and a fucking half has been Yeah-ahhHaa-hmmm! Yeah-AhhHaa-hmmm! I swear to God, she never changed it! I'm gonna die if I don't stop laughing, Yeah-AhhHaa-Hmmm!!!"

Suddenly there was the sound of an impact crash on the other end of the line followed by a loud boom! David picked up the phone and said, "are you still there?" I asked him what had just happened, and he said that he tripped on an extension cord and went headlong into the closet door breaking both doors off their tracks. "You gotta see it," he said guffawing in merriment! I now had to hold myself back from laughing deliriously! "My head! My head I can't talk! My head went halfway through the bedroom closet door!!!" Just then his mother could be heard entering the room. What's going on in here David? She sounded quite concerned as she scurried about the room. My lungs retching for release, but I refused to give in.

"You're destroying this house," she screamed out in fury like a possessed nun! "This whole house you're destroying!!!" David then tried to explain
the situation to his mother the best he could, but his mother being a solemn woman refused to hear any of it! I then pictured that austere
face of hers in front of David and with that, I started to slip. . .

I tripped. . . Because I tripped!
Will you let me talk?
Okay, I broke the door on purpose with my head!
(There was a long pause)
"Why would you do such a thing," asked his mother in shock?
Because I tripped!!!

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Unable to stop the tickling itch that begged for laughter, I exploded!
Swinging off my chair, I dropped the phone to the floor and collapsed.
I don't know how long I was laughing for or how much oxygen, I lost
to my brain but when I regained my composure some twenty minutes
later, every part of my being ached in the worst possible way. I heard
a song that sounded like a tea commercial playing loudly in my head.
Did I just make that song up or did the fool thing just start playing
on its own? Damned if I know.

Dave's mom sure knows how to make tea, boy I'll say!
Go with the best. . . Go with Earl Grey!

Little jingles like this one would attach themselves to my brain, and I
would find myself totally unable to get rid of them for hours at a time.
Kind of like when you get a song stuck in your head, and it won't go
away! After that I went up to my room.

I couldn't help notice the curtains as the wind blew gently through them.
I saw a man kissing a woman on a hill near a castle. The wind changed course and the dark knight came and changed the fate of the two young lovers. There was tragedy, doom, glory and finally peace as the story concluded. I watched the curtains manufacture dreams for me and wondered how it was that I never saw them before. If everything was exactly the same, then what has changed to make me see what before
I could not? I just could not comprehend it. I was spellbound!

Two hours later I spoke to Dave on the phone again. What happened before with your mother, I asked politely? "She wants to take me to
a psychiatrist." Because of the door incident? "No. Something else happened." Well, can you tell me what happened, I asked curiously?
"My mother was really disgusted with the whole door thing and left the
house to go shopping. As soon as she left, I went downstairs for a glass of milk and a cookie. I don't even know why I did that! I wasn't hungry
or thirsty!!! So anyway, to make a long story short, I fell up the stairs
and the glass of milk broke. I got confused! I wasn't sure what I should
do, so I left it there." You left a broken glass of milk on the stairs?
"Yeah, (laughs) and the cookie too!" With that I let go a roar of laughter
that would not be topped to this very day and collapsed to the floor!
I could not catch my breath for minutes at a time and thought I might
actually die from laughing!!! The pain I felt later was similar to a man
shot from a cannon into a steel wall.

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At around 7 pm, I was to meet my friend John at his aunt's house.
They were having an outdoor party in the backyard, and he told his aunt,
I would come. I left the house but found myself disoriented at the
bottom of my own block scratching my head! Only yesterday I knew
this area like the back of my hand and now my memory was like that of
a dying tortoise. I struggled with the reasoning of the how's and why's
and for the life of me couldn't get it right. I knew I had to go a certain
way but nothing made sense. My perception of reality was not altered
so much as my instinct of direction was. I went straight then left and
down but it did not take me to the house at all, only further from it.
I was lost but I knew all the streets. I felt senile confused and old as
I stared at what should have been a familiar block. The memory sector
of my mind had been bordered up like an old haunted house while I was
counting shadows and I couldn't help wondering what happens if I have
to live like this forever. A burned out drone. If this is what I have to look
forward to in later life, then maybe it's better to die young. After several hours, I was happy I left early!

Bantam laughter could be heard over the ridge of houses as far as a block away, and I had pinpointed the location to be that of his aunt's party. I arrived promptly at seven and entered in through the back gate, where the mighty roar of people filled with alcohol charged the air. On a small runner of grass the length of the house I traveled, until I reached the backyard. Standing on an array of firmly set paving stones, it did appear to me at first like we were all on one big crazy chessboard! The sun shone so resplendent, upon the handle of the barbecue grill that it touched off a
wild nerve in my eye, and I had to look away. I was overwhelmed with excitement and couldn't wait to have a drink of something. Anything! Aunt Dana was dervishly whirling, being spun by a partner whom I had not yet met. John was talking to his cousin Vinnie and his cousin was going on and on about this new car of his. A Delta Eighty-Eight Royale. "This new fuckin' Oldsmobile I got Johnny is fantastic! It'll run circles around these other pieces-a-shit you see on the road. Come around, I'll take ya for a spin in it one day, you'll see." He smoked his fancy cigarettes and spoke like an Italian gangster while John just listened and nodded his head.

I made my way over the squares carefully, to where the alcohol had been set up and then suddenly began to feel out of place. Walking over to where my friend was standing, I waved. "Hey-man" he said, "glad you could make it!" He then shook my hand before introducing me to his cousin Vinnie. Then, he casually escorted me over to a part of the backyard where the alcohol was stationed. I swiftly declared Boodles
& tonic to be the rouser and after that very first drink, it was all Bishop
to King 9. . . Whatever the hell that meant.

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Later that evening, after a delightful barbecue and some enchanting conversations with my friend's niece and cousin, John drove me home
in his Nova. As I got to the top of the steps, I turned the key. Upon
entering, I realized my heart was now at a much slower speed than it
had been earlier. It was now like Herb Albert playing Whipped cream.
So relaxing, I could almost fall asleep. It was like being on two
amphetamines instead of twelve!

Eighteen hours after ingestion and not having slept at all, I watched my bedroom curtain's dance for me again, only this time it was different than it was during the day. This time it was slow and erotic, mainly because there was no sunlight shining through it, but rather, electric light cast upon it. Besides, the drug was winding down, and it was getting late. I followed the backdrop until it subsided, like black paint thrown onto a magic canvas. The spectacular image then faded away to naught. Every scene shown to me on that wonderful screen was continually changing in its own way before being repeated.

Xiphosuran shapes in the buttery sand, marked the erosion of a colossal shoreline. Castles made from seeds of men decay in the morning sun, like old grain elevators on long abandoned country roads, wither. I watched a maiden draw a symbol with her finger in the sparkling silica as she knelt down in reverence to the memory of her kinfolk taken from her in a violent windstorm. They now lay buried beneath her in the center of what used to be their home, but is now only a skeleton. This is what time can do as the fair maiden knows all too well. Mountainous ridges carved deep into the steep wall from the side of an impressive canyon, lay furrow. Below, the equestrian's mare rides alone through a dry deluge in his preeminence. Where vultures pervade the sky, ever looming and cow skulls blanched
by the sun, become as common as mirages. . . *They are grave markers* Saddened and without hope, she turns away. Granted, she has brought me a bucket of tears, but are they really for me, or are they mine? As the pail expands to become an ocean, it soon evaporates to become an inlet of salt. Birds swoop down and take a crystal of this salt home to their nest, for one is all they can carry. It is the seed of fertility. They will give it to their young, so they might have life. As the scene washes away, a sandy universe takes its place. In the end, it was irrevocably the same. Much like a sea wave when it rolls in, as it retracts and is pulled back into the ocean, the muddy sand left behind seems to dry up almost instantly. Water has become nonexistent. Delicate shadow's cascade through rivers of dried seaweed and hollowed out bones to erect a new day. Such hope
lies in waiting, but I find the fair maiden has perished.

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Eventually, I closed my eyes and drifted off to sleep. There I dreamt,
I was living in the Soviet Union delivering packages of the utmost importance to the Kremlin, but the Kremlin was simply a dilapidated storefront. Suddenly, it seemed as though somebody was following me, and so I started to run. I never thought I would escape. Finally, I made it to the way station where I delivered the package to Мальвина - (Malvina), who was my mother. "I'll take the package from here, Роберт" - (Robert). I then went back to my hotel overlooking the Basilica and waited.

The telephone rang and I immediately snatched it from its cradle.

It is done, I said in a cool tone and hung up. I then waited for further instructions. There was a fast knock on the door, and so I opened it. Three men dressed exactly alike in grey casual sweaters and matching pants stood, anxiously awaiting my command to enter. Come in I said, hesitantly. Do you realize what you've done said the first man and ordered me to turn on the television? I did as I was told, and there was the small package, I delivered this morning. "Malvena was the spy and now all of Russia is looking for you! They are going to torture you day and night until you give them names." "Make it easy on yourself comrade, bedroom, third draw to the right." "You hear that," said the first man looking out the large window? "They are in the street now. They are coming up." With that they left and closed the door. I heard the sound of heavy boots like thunder coming down the hallway and knew I had to move fast. I walked into the bedroom and pulled open the third draw to the right. They entered the room and began smashing everything in sight. There is nowhere to hide, I said calmly, as I put the gun to my temple. Looking down, I saw the hotel room key on a metal tag by the Matreoshka near the end table.
As I picked up the rusted and filthy tag that looked like it had been lying too long in the back of a toilet tank, the truth had revealed itself and was plain to see. Room #1302. I grinned for I was amused at the sheer irony
of it all. I then thought to myself loudly, only in USSR! As the sound of glass objects breaking and men cursing in demon tongues came closer,
the bedroom door burst open and the hammer instinctively fired. My eyes opened and my heart was still beating, though very fast. I thanked the Good Lord for his kindness and for saving my soul from the fires of perdition. I was relieved to be home, rather than lying face down in a blanket of red along the banks of the Volga river. I closed the book after reading less than a full paragraph. I was glad I documented the nutmeg ordeal and returned the book of jottings back to its rightful place on the shelf.

From my bedroom window, I could now see Mother walking down the block like she was campaigning for a cause. A woman full of vim and vigor in the morning! She rounded the corner like a cosmonaut,
and I thought. . . This is ground control to Major Tom;
you've really made the grade!

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