Terror Firsthand #62: A Mexico City Dream

 ©Terror Firsthand is a fictional blog series that was created in 2024. It is for entertainment purposes only, and I wrote it from the top of my head. Photos are reenactments and dramatization. The following story is for mature audiences only. Please, do not try anything dangerous at home. 

Warning: extreme terror

Terror Firsthand: A Mexico City Dream

In West Virginia burning a candle 

Being in West Virginia felt okay. I started getting used to the black bears and I knew that bear attacks were rare and that they weren't going to bother me. I mean, it's not like they were Grizzlies or Polar bears or something. They were just black bears. They were cool. I enjoyed looking at them. 

I couldn't stop thinking about the court date. I wanted it to go away but I knew that I had to get out of fantasy land and face reality, which is not an easy thing to do. I started adding more rules to my upcoming book. That's why it hasn't been released yet. It's still being written. 

I poured a glass of Blue Haiwann. I started following the liquor brand on Instagram. I figured I'd just unfollow them if they don't follow me back. That's probably how my followers feel but I do not care because I had to buy them. I don't like following accounts that won't follow me back. I don't even know if they're a real person or not. 

Anyways, I purchased a Santa Muerte court case candle kit online from a Botanica- like the one that I tried to own in Louisiana. I knew it isn't safe to burn candles in the wilderness, especially near a tent, but desperate times calls for desperate measures. It's a rule I had to break. 

After the kit came the next day, I drove to Charleston to get it. I followed the instructions inside the kit and then lit the azul court case candle. I wanted to see if Santa Muerte could help me win the case. I mean, Santa Muerte never lets me down. Especially when I speak in Spanish and eat Mexican food. Then my prayers are answered much more quicker! 

Santa Muerte is Mexican so I have to be Mexican, even if I'm African. There are a lot of black people in Mexico. I don't mean any harm when I say that I want to avoid them. Blacks don't like other blacks in Mexico. Don't let the media fool you! 

Anyways, it would make me even more Mexican if I went back to Mexico. Instead of going to Alcapulco, I should go to Mexico City. That way I can see the real Santa Muerte for myself. I'm sure it'll be an experience that I would never forget if I don't actually make it my home and die there. 

I laid down, went to sleep inside the tent, and had a dream, like Martin Luther King. This is what the dream was about.

I woke up in Mexico with a rag in my mouth. I was tied to a chair and someone was putting a tattoo on my face. They were putting tattoos all over my body. It was like 8 of them. They had tattoos all over their bodies. There was not one space left to put anymore ink on them. 

"Why are y'all doing this to me?!" I yelled. They obviously wanted me to look like them. 

Then one of them slapped me across the face and said something in Spanish that I didn't understand. I only understood the words "negra" "puta" and "gringa". I think he wanted me to wake up. I was really out of it. The he splashed cold water on my face. At least it wasn't gasoline.

In Mexico City getting inked 

I pinched myself to see if it was real, but I was still inside the tattoo shop. I knew that they were disrespecting the fu*k out of me but I didn't know what else to do. I thought I could kick it around Mexico City and it was obviously a mistake. Why didn't I just embrace the tattoos?! I mean, after all, I don't think I was being charged for them.

"Where am I ? How did I get inside this shop? Are y'all charging me?!" I asked.

None of them answered. They started laughing and talking in more Spanish and I didn't understand. All I understood were the words "dinero" "no" "y" "loco" "azul" and "mujeres". 

I just shut up and let them put the tattoos all over me. It really hurt. It was like 8 men tatting me up at one time. My whole body was sore. I thought I was going to catch HIV or get scabs or something. There was no way I that I could handle that much pain. I was hurting bad! 

Then one of the Mexican men pulled out a bag of cocaine and poured it onto a tray that had Al Pacino and Al Capone face on it. Then my eyes got big. Then he pulled out a credit card and formed the cocaine into a line. Then another man handed me a box of Popeyes chicken and asked me did I want a piece. I grabbed two pieces and started chomping them down like I wasn't on a diet. I didn't even know that there was a Popeyes all the way out there. I didn't want to get tricked into eating too much American food. After I ate the American food, the tattoo artists paused for a moment.

"Aqui." said the Mexican dude, while handing me the tray with the coke on it. Then he started saying some more stuff that I didn't understand. 

I just took a huge sniff of the first two lines of cocaine. I couldn't take the pain from the tattoos. I didn't even care if I died. Then I started getting afraid. 

Another Mexican dude walked over to me and handed me a bottle of Don Julio Tequila. I took a huge jug of it, knowing that I was about to overdose and pass away. 

I got up from the chair and looked at myself in the mirror. I looked like a totally different person. My whole body was covered with tattoos. Even my face. There were all types of artwork on my body. There were guns, Santa Muertes, pitchforks, gang signs, faces of pit bulls, the whole country of Mexico, the words Oya Obinidodo, a bunch of fire, dollar bills, and a bunch of other stuff. None of the tattoos were gay though. There were no women on my fu*king body. I actually felt accepted for once in my life. 

Then one of the tattoo artists gave me a bottle of water and a huge jar of tattoo paste and green soap. I couldn't believe that I made a change so drastic! I was just hoping I wouldn't catch anything! I knew that the cocaine wasn't laced with fentanyl because I didn't die. But how did I get gagged? How did I end up in the shop in the first place? I don't remember going in. All I remember was going to sleep.

After that, I woke up from the dream. I was still in my normal skin. With the same tattoos that I already had. I wasn't in Mexico, and I was still in West Virginia, sitting in a tent at a campground in the mountains, watching bears. There was a heavy, low, thick fog in the air and it was morning time. I was still alone by myself, with Big C nearby drinking out of a lake. I fixed a cup of chai tea, and meditated on what might happen next.

The blue court case candle burned for a few hours and then I cut the TV. Sexy Bluuee was on there. The bit*h died. The whole music industry was showing love to the rich opp. She died during a concert. A b*mber blew up the whole stage and the crowd scattered like roaches do when the lights get cut on.

"Hollywood celebrity rapper Sexy Bluuee pronounced deceased after performing at a concert in Mexico City." Said the reporter. 

The crowd running away at the Sexy Bluuee concert in Mexico 

"Soon as the stage blew up, everyone started running!" Said one of the witnesses at the concert. Then they showed a clip of the crowd running. 

"We are very devastated by this tragic loss! Everyone in the whole world loved Sexy Bluuee!" Said another witness at the concert.

"I ain't like that funky bi*ch! Everyone obviously didn't like her!" I said to the screen!

"The suicide b*mber that caused the deadly mass k*llings is also pronounced deceased." The world news reporter said. "The suicide b*mber's name and identity has not yet been discovered. It has been discovered that a popular psychic named Sudan Ukbara, predicted the event just two days before the tragedy occured." The reporter continued. "Many have been contacting the psychic to get more answers. Sudan Ukbara has had a steady history of making accurate predictions." 

"I had to cut my phone off. It wouldn't stop ringing!" Sudan Ukbara said to the reporter. "I had to barricade myself in my apartment! Because people wouldn't stop coming to my house!" He continued.

I was glad sexy Bluuee was gone. I did not mourn at all. I would never attend one of her dangerous ass concerts! I didn't even care. I was not a fan. I changed the channel and started watching a funny comedian and went on about my day like it was nothing. What was her black ass doing in Mexico anyway? She should've just stayed in America! What a tragedy! I had just had a nightmare about being in Mexico!

I took the clip of the crowd scattering like roaches at the deadly Sexy Bluuee concert and posted it on my IG stories with a bunch of laughing emojis on top of it, like someone from Actionville Florida would do. I thought it was kinda funny. I wanted to fly to Mexico City to the deadly live music venue where the fatal b*mbing took place and record a music video there but I couldn't afford to diss the opp that bad. Plus, that would be a deadly move anyway.

Rapper Sexy Bluuee de*d

That Sexy Bluuee b*tch thought she was Griselda Blanco or something! She even mentioned it in a blog! They showed a picture of the bi*ch wearing the long blue fur coat from Gaylenciaga and was holding a bunch of money on the news report. She was also wearing a bunch of chains, which were reportedly purchased from a celebrity jeweler named Jacob. None of that sh*t could help save her life from going to hell.