February 21, 2009

The Palisander Conspiracy

By Daniel

Months ago, Basenotes’ mikeperez23 was kind enough to mail me a sample of CdG Series 2 Red: Palisander. However I never ended up seeing it, and was quite disappointed that it either had been lost in the mail or stolen from my mailbox.

It wasn’t until a few weeks ago that I found out what happened to it.

June 20th, 2008 (or thereabouts)

There was a man, let’s call him Mister P, though his name is actually…

James P.
1416 S 3rd St
Louisville, KY 40208

But this mysterious Mister P used to live at the address that I live at now, and on that fateful day he got the mail, including a padded envelope from Miami, Florida. Not realizing that it was not for him, but perplexed nonetheless, he opens the package. Inside is a tiny glass spray bottle, with one word on it in black on a white label.


Mister P stared at the bottle, and bottle stared back at him as bottles are sometimes known to do in late June when you’ve had a few. He calls a few friends and asks them to come over and help him with a problem. Let’s call them Dick and Jane, since I really don’t know their names this time. They enter his small apartment and sit down across from him at the kitchen table. Mister P turns to them with a look of concern.

“This was in the mail, it was supposed to be for the new tenant at 1420.” He then reveals the tiny bottle, and the confusion was well-nigh palpable. Mister P looks at Jane and Jane looks at Dick and Dick looks at Mister P, then they alternate and look at the other person like a clichéd action movie. After a minute or two of silence, Dick spoke up.

“It’s drugs.”

Well, that much was obvious, they knew, It had to be drugs, what else comes in little bottles with one lousy word on it? And that new tenant looked shady! With his…beard, and his…beardness. Had to be drugs from Arabiastan. But another question was now obvious, and it was Mister P that spoke up.

“Should I…give him back his drugs?”
“Well, that’s kind of awkward, isn’t it?,” Jane inquired. “Sorry for opening your drugs, here they are.”
“…You’re right. We can’t give it back.”

Dick, fresh off of parole, then took the logical next step.

“Well…we can’t give it back. Should we…try his drugs?”

They looked at each other and all slowly nodded their assent. Mister P handed the bottle to Dick, hands shaking slightly.

“Do you know what you’re doing?”
“Of course…you spray it in your mouth.” Dick replied somewhat lamely. He took a few deep breaths, opened his mouth, inhaled and sprayed the mysterious Palisander with high hopes.

And that’s when all hell broke loose.

Dick immediately began coughing a choking, hacking cough, a look of panic in his eyes.

“Oh my God, it’s poison!,” Jane exclaimed, “That tenant is a terrorist! Dick, speak to me!”

Silence hit the room like a ton of bricks, followed shortly thereafter by a sniffing of the air.

“Huh. I guess it is. Well it’s not very good, is it?”
“I dunno, but it tastes awful.”

The End.