Benny is a red freak. Which is kind of funny, because Bennies are also cheap crapo pharmaceutical speed. But Benny is a confirmed red freak who hates speed. He's been coming over to our commune for the last month, which is also kind of funny since we usually don’t like red freaks. They're almost always boring and stupid. Being boring and stupid is about the greatest sin you can commit here in San Francisco, other than being violent. And Benny is stupid. So stupid in fact that he’s really very funny and he’s never boring. Also, he always has a big bag of reds with him that he's very generous with, and taking reds once in a while is kind of fun but you have to be careful with reds. If you take them with any psychedelic, it just negates the effect of the psychedelic so you've wasted that high. If you take them with speed, you wind up with lots of bumps and bruises, and nothing is worse than a lively downer freak. But booze is the worst. There's been more than a few times I've taken a handful of downers washed down with a bottle of wine at a party on a Saturday night only wake up on a Monday morning, usually someplace strange with someone that I've never seen before, thinking it was Sunday. And if you take them downers too often then like I said, you just get boring and stupid. But Benny is always entertaining.
Like the time that we all piled into his old rattletrap VW to go to a party over on Sutter and Van Ness. While sitting at a red light on Market St., Benny says he thinks that from now on he’ll stop at green lights and go on the red. Since we've all taken a few reds in preparation of the party, this sounds like a good idea to us. So when the light turns green Benny just sits there. There are horns honking and some shouting behind us but we only sit there giggling. As someone goes around us he flips us off. What a jerk! We sit there until the light turns red then Benny floors the gas, pops the clutch and we proceed through the intersection accompanied by more horn honking. This goes on for about four blocks. We all think it's really funny until we almost get flattened by a MUNI bus. Benny then pulls over and says that it scared him so bad he's not driving any more tonight. We’ll have to walk the rest of the way. Luckily it wasn't too far.
Another time we were on our way to a party on the fifth floor of an apartment building and yes, we had taken a couple reds in anticipation of the evening festivities. The way up was via an old self-service elevator. One of those with a folding metal gate.
Benny was the last one into the elevator and just as he's about to close the gate he shouts, "I'm gonna fuck this thang!"
He whips out his cock then slams it in the elevator gate. He immediately falls to the floor holding his wang howling in pain. We seeing this, think that it's the funniest thing we've seen in a long long time.
So we're all howling with laughter and saying, "Man, you really fucked that thing good Benny." and, "Did you get off Benny?"
As luck would have it, the elevator stops on 3. The doors open and a young straight couple are standing there. They take one look at this scene; a bunch of freaks laughing likes maniacs at a guy holding his crank while rolling around on the floor. They wisely decide to wait. Like I said, Benny was pretty stupid but he was always funny.
Benny didn't live in the City. He lived across the bay in Alamo back when it was a dusty little town full of bikers, rednecks, druggies and cowboy wannabe’s instead of yuppies like it is today. They were all on the run looking for cheap rent but still in the bay area. Benny was always trying to get us to go over the Bay Bridge to see his place. He told us that he had a nice little ranch with chickens, goats, lots of dogs and his pride and joy, his two horses. Benny was a cowboy wannabe. He always wore a black cowboy hat, a red bandanna around his neck and the requisite boots and jeans. However, we almost never left the City. There was no reason to. Everything we needed was here: Sex and drugs and rock and roll, plus all of our friends. Sure, we might take a day trip to Sausalito to hang out on the docks on a warm day or even venture over to Berkeley if there was a really good concert or riot going on, but all the way to Alamo to see a bunch of farm animals. No way! Also, none of us had a car and we certainly were not going 30 miles in Benny's old green beat up V Dub.
One day Benny comes in and tells us that he's borrowed a van and after plying us with a red or two, insists that we go over to his place to spend the night. He’ll even buy all the food and do the cooking.
So what can we say except, "Okay Benny, lets go play grandpa McCoy."
We grab our sleeping bags, drugs and other essentials needed for a night in the sticks and we’re off. Well, here we are, it's hot and dusty. There’s a two-bedroom board shack on a couple of acres with a small barn and corral. Yes, Benny, we see the chickens, the goats, the dogs and no, no one really wants to ride the horses. Yup, mighty pretty spread you got here Benny, but what say we just all go inside, smoke some dope, drink some wine and listen to some tunes. Which is just what we do for the next few hours. After it gets dark Benny makes us a dinner of fresh killed roasted chicken and salad, which I had to admit, was pretty tasty. We’re all sitting around the living room, which has almost no furniture. Just a large sofa on a carpet with a bunch of pillows thrown on the floor to lay around on, not unusual in a hippie house, but there's a real thick rope hanging from the living room ceiling. I ask Benny why it's there. He tells me that he’s going to make a hanging coffee table but hasn't gotten around to it yet. Sounds good to me. Now pass that hooter.
We’re all full and stoned feeling real mellow. Maybe it wasn't such a bad idea to get out of the City for the day. Benny puts some jazz on the stereo, lights some candles, cuts the lights and leaves the room.
We're laid back grooving on the sounds when all of a sudden we hear, "EEK! EEK! EEK!..."
Someone is shrieking at the top of their lungs. We all sit up thinking, ‘What the FUCK! Is this a bust or has someone just freaked out?’
But no, it's Benny running into the room naked except for his hat, bandanna and boots. He jumps up onto the rope and starts swinging back and forth.
He got three or four lit 4th of July sparklers stuck up his ass and all the while he’s screaming, "EEK! EEK! EEK!..."
We are amazed, delighted, and highly entertained. We cheer him on. When the sparklers burn out, Benny hops off the rope and leaves the room. When he comes back into the room he asks, "How did you like my Blue Jay dance?"
We all had to agree that it was one of the best pieces of theater we had ever seen and congratulate him on his performance. We tell him that it was worth the ride to Alamo to see it.
Later I asked Benny how did he get the sparklers to stay in his ass?
"Champagne cork." he says, "I put the sparklers in the round top part and stick the skinny part in my asshole." Pretty imaginative, I had to admit.
Sad to say, but Benny wasn't with us very much longer. He kept taking them reds and kept getting stupider and stupider. In fact, he lost the ability to read and worse, the ability to be funny. One day we noticed that he wasn't coming around any more. Probably lost the ability to drive, or got busted, or died. Oh well, people come and people go.
About a year later Pat, one of the girls in the house, walks in the door and says, "Guess who I ran into in Concord today?"
She had been over visiting her mom who she, unlike the rest of us, was still on good terms with. Most of our parents couldn't accept the fact that our lifestyle wasn't, let's face it, the Amerikan dream. In fact, most of them were so horrified by the way we lived that they wouldn't come within a hundred miles of San Francisco after visiting just once.
Anyway, "Who?" we asked.
"Benny the red freak." says Pat. "I was in downtown Concord. Me and my Mom were clothes shopping when I see this guy preaching on the street. I see a black cowboy hat and hear that voice. I know it's Benny. So I go up to him and say, "How's it going, Benny?"
He says, "Have you found Jesus yet, Sister?" then he shows me his Bible.
I go, "Now Benny, you know that you can't read so what you doing with that book."
He recognizes me, smiles then says, "How's it going with you Pat? Long time, no see."
I tell him, "You know, same-o, same-o. But where have you been?"
And he tells me, "After I stopped coming over to your house I really got into them reds. OD'ed a couple of times and almost died. I woke up in the hospital after one OD and the doctor told me that if I didn't stop taken them reds then I’d probably be dead by Christmas! And that wasn't very far away. He suggested I take up some other, less dangerous lifestyle. He told me that he was a Christian then invited me to meet with his pastor, start going to church and try to straighten out my life. Since I really did not want to die, and the reds weren't even much fun anymore, I took him up on his offer. He got me into a detox program. When I got out I started going to church and found the Lord. I ain't touched no drugs or booze for the last eight months. And let me tell you Pat, that being on Jesus is a lot better than being on reds. And it’s a lot better than being dead."
None of us could argue with that.