WEEDS- btw this is NOT about DRUGS!
Brian Jones should have died. He knew it. His friends knew it. His neighbors were so perplexed they came out of their homes specifically to stop and stare in wonder. And by all scientific knowledge they were correct
Year by year, he was well over one-hundred but miraculously, he had the physical presence of a twenty-four year old. His flawless pale skin never wrinkled nor showed any sign of blemish. And his brown curls hung about his face without the slightest hint of discoloration. His bones were as strong as they ever were fifty years.
But years made no difference to Jones anymore. For what did each day matter when you had an eternity? And he knew he had an eternity.
Forever. That one word described his life so perfectly.
Forever. As long as he sustained his diet of this rare weed. A weed that prolonged his life with everlasting youth and beauty, but slowly devoured his organs one by one. He could feel it! That creepy disturbing nightmare of waking up covered in bugs. Bugs that slowly crawl into your mouth, nose and eyes until there is nothing left you but the insects. The insects and your helpless screams. He could feel it.
Living this long, he was not stupid. He knew his body was deteriorating. But all other foods his new digestive system would reject with violent retching. Even the thinnest cracker made him horribly ill. And when he withdrew, even for a day, his heart would beat uncontrollably and his insides burned like hell.
There was no escaping this drug-induced stupor he relied upon. Everyday he had to pick this red fern-like thing from an empty lot a few blocks from his house and blend it up until the red turned into a sickening green shade.
And as every other day in Jones' eternity, he brought the liquid poisonous antidote right to his perfect beautiful lips.