Summer Vacation at Burning Man.
Instead of our normal trip to Grandma’s in Oregon, our parents drove to the Nevada desert for Burning Man. Mom and Dad explained that their relationship was in a rut, and they wanted to try something new. Mom said that Dad isn’t spontaneous anymore. Dad complained that Burning Man tickets are more expensive than a week at Disneyland, but Mom said that the drugs are better here.
We got here in the morning. The car broke down, so Dad traded it for a sheet of stamps that had Woodstock on them. Mom and Dad ate some of the stamps, and Mom changed into a tie-dyed dress. Dad said he was tripping, but I think he’s walking fine.
Burning Man is neat. There are lots and lots of friendly people, and many ladies who wear only face paint. And everybody smells weird, like a combination of body odor and some perfume that also smells like body odor.
Today is arts and crafts. Kelley and I sat under a tent with the arts counselor, a guy with a top hat who says his name’s Posternutbag. We’re learning to macramé bong cozies. A bong is like a vase. Kelley has done it before. I always thought it was a thing for girls, but Posternutbag said I should liberate my feminine side. He’s giving me a quarter for every one I make, because afterward he’s going to sell them in the parking lot at Dead shows.
I met the Burning Man mascot, Raffy the Rasta. He’s a puppet on stilts. The best way to become Raffy’s friend is to steal your parents’ stash.
Today was archery. There’s one group of people who are called rednecks. They sell bottles of water to Burning Man people for $10, and when people complain, they shoot them with Tasers. I got to do it once. Then we went deer hunting. The rednecks explained that the Burning Men always ran out of food, and there was nothing better than watching a hungry vegetarian eat deer. The rednecks gave us soda and chips, and let us play video games in their trailer. Then the rednecks had to leave because their meth lab was discovered.
I haven’t seen Mom all day. Dad said she is on a coke binge, which he says is good because she needed to lose weight. Dad says he’s met lots of nice ladies. Dad also says that massage class at the community college has really paid off.
Our babysitter, Luna, is awesome. She said we don’t need to eat our vegetables, because they represent agronomic tyranny. And she’s taking us to a rave later.
The rave last night was fun! It was like a dance for homeless people.
This morning Dad explained that he was going on a vision quest with a woman named Astrolab. She is from Sedona, and she doesn’t like to wear bras. Or pants. Since Mom hasn’t come back from the Goa-trance ecstasy workshop, Dad left us with the pirate kickball league. It’s like regular kickball, but whenever you go up to the plate, you can take a bong hit. I’m really hungry now. The only food the pirates had was sugar-free seitan roll-ups. After the game, Kelley cried because she was hungry, so we walked around for a while, looking at all the naked people wrestling in their tents. Finally, we found some vegans, who promised to feed us. I think “vegan” means “skinny.”
The vegans are nice, but they burned our clothes for fuel because cotton is bad, and dressed us in hemp togas. I like mine, although it’s weird not wearing any underwear. Kelley cried because her hemp dress is scratchy. Then I met some kids who found some irrigation ditches to play in.
Our newest friends, Nevada state troopers, rescued us from a tribe of feral belly dancers. After they subdued the belly dancers with pepper spray, they fed us peanut-butter sandwiches on real (store-bought) bread. And ice cream!
They took us back to our campsite, where Mom was waiting with more troopers and her new boyfriend, Jesse. The troopers made Mom promise to leave immediately. Jesse helped me roll up our tent, which was filled with something called paraphernalia.
Jesse said that he can’t believe that the cryptofascist law firm wouldn’t pay for his Burning Man tickets as part of the employee wellness program. He said the Man (not the burning one) is keeping him down. He said that private property is the “s” word. Then he got mad when I borrowed his Nintendo without asking.
We had to drive home before they burned the Man. Instead, we saw more naked women. Mom said we could stay at a KOA and have our own campfire and burn our own man, but I’d rather go home and go back to my school.
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