Christmas Music and Fentanyl

Bright December sunshine issued an invitation so Elmer and I took a late morning stroll through the park. We walked the path that paralleled a creek and I detected fresh evidence of beavers at work, including a downed alder. A stately lodge also revealed new structural additions. What great joy it brings to my life knowing I am walking distance to a beaver lodge!

We turned a corner and found the path that paralleled the creek on the opposite side.

Something blue and undulating in the riparian area arrested my attention.

Must be another abandoned tarp. They are everywhere.

Whatever it was, it flapped a few feet away from where a beaver had gnawed a willow.

Elmer and I went over to investigate.

I beheld something moving slowly underneath the tarp, in a nodding fashion, while a tinny, weirdly computerized-sounding Christmas instrumental, obviously from a phone, played. I didn't recognize the tune but it was definitely Christmas-themed. Sleigh bells gave it away.

Resting near this spectacle was an open and empty red suitcase of the vintage variety.

The human being under the tarp kept nodding. It was the physical movement associated with a fentanyl high that I'd observed dozens of times in the neighborhood.

I kept watching. I stood there for five minutes, waiting for something else to happen. The terrible Christmas music kept on playing.

Nothing different happened.

For a moment, I considered saying something, but what was there to say? I knew I would write up this encounter later, but also, was it worth writing up and sharing?

Elmer and I walked away and I turned around every ten yards or so. The nodding continued.