The Barn by David Hill

Author:David Hill [Hill, David]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Trilogy Christian Publishing, Inc.
Published: 2022-11-12T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 7

Point of No Return

After I recovered from my disastrous trip on PCP, Mike, my track star friend, invited me to join him at a cocaine party on New Year’s Eve, which was a few days away. It was an invitation offered only to those who were the region’s biggest cocaine dealers. Because of my connection to Mike, I would be the lone exception. The party would take place at a private residence owned by the largest cocaine dealer, who supplied Thumper and his crew.

The reason Mike invited me to this exclusive party was that one week prior to my PCP nightmare, I joined him in jumping off a cocaine cliff, not just once, but twice. The first time was a casual and harmless one-time experiment… or so I thought. The high was so surprisingly pleasurable and powerful that I thought it wouldn’t hurt to go ahead and try the white stuff for a second time only. Therein lies the illusion.

Mike was so excited that I was not only a close friend but could now be considered a coke-snorting partner that he thought a special celebration was in order. Risking his newly established important cocaine connection, Mike received approval for my invitation to this private party. Upon finding out that Thumper was also invited, I accepted.

The price of joining Mike in my experimentation with cocaine came at a high personal cost. Before enlisting in the Marine Corps, I had shot a seven-by-six-point trophy bull elk just outside Yellowstone Park in Montana with Roy and my father. Before heading home to Minnesota, a Montana game warden weighed it at 750 pounds. He said it was the largest bull harvested to date in the 1981 Montana hunting season. Before returning home to Minnesota, we strapped the enormous bull elk with its majestic antlers to the roof of our horse trailer. Making our first stop at McDonald’s in Bozeman, Montana, we were quickly swarmed by a Greyhound busload of passengers and restaurant patrons coming over to stare at the bull. There was such a large crowd I felt I could’ve charged tickets for admission. Throughout our 1,200-mile journey home, this huge elk captivated the attention of interstate travelers; and truckers’ CB radios filled the airwaves with congratulations.

When my father, Roy, and I arrived home, we were welcomed by the entire Hill family clan and some of my father’s friends. A huge banner stretched the width of our farm shop, which read, “Congratulations, David, on the Imperial Elk!” Bursting with pride, I envisioned my bull elk mount would be displayed over a fireplace and admired by future generations.

No one, especially myself, would have imagined selling my prize trophy elk mount; but regretfully, that is what I did. Not even being subjected to waterboarding could have forced a confession that I had sold it to get high on cocaine. Understandably, selling the mount caused a relational rift between my father, Roy, and me. Years later, Roy and I made several attempts to recover the elk mount; yet it was never found.

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