I have written some expressively negative elements into this blog lately and sometimes I wish I hadn’t. The world is never going to be perfect and I am fine with that. I’d like like mountains to be made of candy and little fluffy kitty cats nestled around everyone’s necks.
Outdoor air conditioning all summer to keep Santa cool as he delivers everyone presents every Saturday, all year long…sounds good? My next door neighbor said he could give me a special type of lobotomy in his garage that could achieve those results.
No…no more home surgery for me. After I messed up removing my own appendix in 1997, I cannot go that route. Of course I’m kidding, but the following story is true. I must share it with you.
Psychedelic Psychoses
I went to hang out with some friends one summer in high school, just to have fun and do what kids do. They made a big batch of jungle juice (punch mixed with lots of 190 proof grain alcohol) so us kids could get drunk and get a head start on pickling our livers.
I arrived late and most everyone was intoxicated, so being eager to get a buzz on, I had a few large glasses of the cloudy reddish fluid. I began feeling weird and hearing voices like people were breathing directly in my ears. I couldn’t seem to shake the unusual feeling.
I became overtaken with wild sensations of temperature flashes crawling throughout my body. My left hand was hot, but my right hand was ice cold! Everything before my eyes was distorted slightly. It seemed like dense sheets of clear, red plastic were wrapped around my head, making everything take on a crimson luminescence.
I walked over to a group of my friends and one of them was complaining of something similar. The sound of voices sounded like they traveled through long tubes, some like old radios. This older guy who looked like a hippie in his 40′s wearing a kaleidoscopic bandanna was talking about something that had everyone’s attention.
I stood in front of someones beautiful candy-apple red Corvette, my head swimming, my mouth parched dry. My vision became a narrow circle, getting smaller and smaller until it disappeared.
I awakened, lying in the ground. My shirt was covered in punch I had thrown up. Then the hippie said, “You guys might have picked the wrong ones. If you did, it would be a poisonous type that looks just like the right ones. Look at him, he’ll be dead in about 10 minutes, after the neurotoxins take hold of his involuntary muscle tissue. I’ve seen it happen many times. He is better off dead, after crushing the hood of that corvette, somebody is gonna be pissed!”
He was talking about me. “Picked what? What are you talking about?” I asked.
“Psychedelic mushrooms. Psilocybin. They got the wrong ones though. They picked baby shrooms and I told them to only get adults so we could identify them correctly. I’d be saying my last prayers if I were you.”
I was only 15 years old and scared out of my mind. The car I had fallen on had a crushed hood, as if someone took a sledgehammer to it. I began running and soon arrived at the edge of a highway. Cars were speeding back and forth and I was so disoriented I could not judge when to cross it to get to the store, which was just a short distance away.
I awakened again after apparently passing out a second time. I looked at the clear, black, midnight sky filled with fluffy white clouds. There were faces carved into them. Real, living faces looking directly into my eyes. Some smiled, some gave me expressive acknowledgments. I stared for what seemed several hours, drifting off to sleep.
I suddenly jumped onto my feet and somehow, I had crossed the highway but couldn’t remember doing it. I knew I had narrowly escaped being hit by a car. Scared out of my mind, fearing I would soon be dead, I was relieved to see my friends standing next to a paramedic. I ran towards them calling out their names. I got closer and said, “Hey Kirby…it’s me Bobby…I need help!”
A man grabbed his child to protect her and told his wife to get in the car. He said, ” There is no Kirby here, please don’t hurt my child.”
I realized I didn’t know anyone there and the ambulance was really an old white van. I was freaking out, covered in mud from head to toe, noticing I was naked – carrying a gun in my hand. I saw a bathroom door and ran inside, locking the door.
I looked in the mirror and saw a jagged, black and red face with it’s eyes cut out looking back. Smaller faces like I saw in the clouds were engraved in my skull gazing into me, speaking in unknown languages. Someone began beating on the door calling out my name. I was crying, trying to keep my sanity.
I looked up and my friends were standing around me asking me if I was alright. I was coherent enough to understand where I was for the first time in what seemed like days. I was on my back, lying on the hood of my own car.
They told me I had passed out and that someone had spiked the punch with a gallon of prepared, hallucinogenic mushroom tea. I asked how long I had been out for. I was astounded to find out it was only for around 15 seconds!!!!!
Around 5 hours later I was back to normal and drove home. We never found out who put the mushroom juice in the punch and to this day, many people believe I am the culprit.
