oneluckysperm
Greenlighter
- Joined
- Jul 22, 2009
- Messages
- 36
An auspcious start to the day, at about 8:30 on a Saturday morning a friend's mum rings me to let me know he's knocked on another friend's door and can't get hold of him. After a few moments confused silence she continues "so could you ring him, please?" Ah, understood.
"Hello?"
"Your mum just rang me."
"Oh yeah, I'm outside Y-"
"I told her to get a hot water bottle if she wants to keep the bed warm."
*Guffaw* "Shaddap! I've knocked on all the doors and windows and he aint answering. He said to get a fry up *(American readers: bacon, egg, mushroom etcetera breakfast)* and call round."
"And what?"
"I fucking spoke to him two minutes before I came out."
"He's blatantly crashed out again."
"But he aint in his room,"
"How d'you know?"
*In a monotone, retard voice* "Because I've gone around his house and knocked on all the windows - I looked into his room, FFS."
(...) "That's weird of you."
"Oh, fuck off. Can I call round yours?"
With that, ten minutes later I'm showering while W's cooking breakfast. Not how I pictured my Saturday morning, but I can live with it. Half an hour or so later (W's got a formula for scrambled eggs: you stir the whites around the yolk and only at the last minute before serving do you whisk them in) Y calls round. In between W's arrival and my showering we discuss the possible scenarios for Yi's dereliction of duty and decide nothing less than a family tragedy could've prevented him from leaving without at least phoning and explaining the whys and wherefores. As it turns out he awoke and downed some cider from the night before, vomited and covered it with a towel before falling asleep in the bathroom. All within the 45 or so minutes it took W to get to his house. That explains a lot. Silent applause for Y.
Having eaten, W gets a call from CC. They're in local mushroom picking spot and demand our attendance. Fair enough - I was going to masturbate and read some shit for college but, all things considered, this adventure could be far more rewarding.
Upon getting there we find CC with two acquaintences who don't say much. It'll be an hour or so's worth of picking before they announce they've been tripping all night.
"Have you got trips."
"Yeah, some acid and some 2c-b."
Several minutes later we've each ingested 20mg of 2c-b and two tabs of acid. During this time we've been eating mushrooms. Upon numerous occasions we've pondered whether we've had enough, swiftly forgotting and carrying on eating liberty caps out of the ground. They're not particularly plentiful by normal picking standards, but (as I've verified) when you eat them as you find them they have a tendency to creep up behind you and beat you into submission.
But I'm getting ahead of myself. When we decided to climb the tree we were relatively sobre. Upon reaching the top the first hints of acid and 2c-b were felt. By the time we got back down to the 'access branch' (as we'd named the long, thick branch that begun four or five feet off the ground and ended six to twelve feet up the trunk) this tree seemed intent on killing us. Many a culure undoubtedly has many a proverb to describe the experience, but there were jumps involved: the branch you reached for in coming up may have been too high to do anything but jump down from in coming down. This process exhausted an hour or so and one of our companions landed on his arse on a branch jumping from one to another. It is the first and (hopefully) last time I see anybody fall out of a tree. That said, CC successfully amused himself by enunciating his desire to see us rescued by the fire department (which would admittedly have been amusing). We beat him to death and buried him somewhere.
(...Not really.) Once we got down we ate more shrooms. We only left at about dark (16:00). It's difficult to describe this, but on the edge of a field there's an archway. Just an archway. Nothing reminding you of anything, just an archway in the middle of a set of fields. We laugh and continue past it. A few minutes later I decide I want to walk through this lonely archway. We do. All three of us, one after another. While this is occurring I investigate a sign sticking out from the ground nearby and read "hope you're happy choking on balls in heaven". I laugh. Me and one friend double in two and nearly piss ourselves. We continue on. After a while our other friend informs us that this sign read "I hope you're happy playing with balls in heaven".
Ah. A pet cemetary. That's what those houses were doing there.
"That archway was in their garden."
"Oh."
A part of me hopes they didn't see us stumbling through that archway in hysterics and an apparently even greater part of me cracks up at the thought that we did. The Journey back into town will be a long one. It was. It involved me and a friend doubling over periodically, but we'll skip that.
It wasn't until several hours after he'd said he'd be back that W appeared. He'd brought back three grams (well, two and a bit grams). As soon as we'd finished the first line W collapsed, his eyes rolled into the back of his head, snoring deeply with one hand layed across his rotund, hairy belly. Me and J agreed that this was the most repulsive sight we'd ever layed eyes upon, but we continue.
Ketamine is like PlayDough - it has that same taste, and after you do it your mind gains malleability: Soixante-Neuf, Schpongle, Spelunk; stupid words and combinaions of words keep the mind occupied for hours. To this day we say "youy've soixante-neufed it." I'll ring one of 'em up and say "it's J". Not until I say "Woot-woot" will they realise who's calling them.
substancecode_lsd
substancecode_mushrooms
substancecode_2cb
substancecode_ketamine
_combo_
"Hello?"
"Your mum just rang me."
"Oh yeah, I'm outside Y-"
"I told her to get a hot water bottle if she wants to keep the bed warm."
*Guffaw* "Shaddap! I've knocked on all the doors and windows and he aint answering. He said to get a fry up *(American readers: bacon, egg, mushroom etcetera breakfast)* and call round."
"And what?"
"I fucking spoke to him two minutes before I came out."
"He's blatantly crashed out again."
"But he aint in his room,"
"How d'you know?"
*In a monotone, retard voice* "Because I've gone around his house and knocked on all the windows - I looked into his room, FFS."
(...) "That's weird of you."
"Oh, fuck off. Can I call round yours?"
With that, ten minutes later I'm showering while W's cooking breakfast. Not how I pictured my Saturday morning, but I can live with it. Half an hour or so later (W's got a formula for scrambled eggs: you stir the whites around the yolk and only at the last minute before serving do you whisk them in) Y calls round. In between W's arrival and my showering we discuss the possible scenarios for Yi's dereliction of duty and decide nothing less than a family tragedy could've prevented him from leaving without at least phoning and explaining the whys and wherefores. As it turns out he awoke and downed some cider from the night before, vomited and covered it with a towel before falling asleep in the bathroom. All within the 45 or so minutes it took W to get to his house. That explains a lot. Silent applause for Y.
Having eaten, W gets a call from CC. They're in local mushroom picking spot and demand our attendance. Fair enough - I was going to masturbate and read some shit for college but, all things considered, this adventure could be far more rewarding.
Upon getting there we find CC with two acquaintences who don't say much. It'll be an hour or so's worth of picking before they announce they've been tripping all night.
"Have you got trips."
"Yeah, some acid and some 2c-b."
Several minutes later we've each ingested 20mg of 2c-b and two tabs of acid. During this time we've been eating mushrooms. Upon numerous occasions we've pondered whether we've had enough, swiftly forgotting and carrying on eating liberty caps out of the ground. They're not particularly plentiful by normal picking standards, but (as I've verified) when you eat them as you find them they have a tendency to creep up behind you and beat you into submission.
But I'm getting ahead of myself. When we decided to climb the tree we were relatively sobre. Upon reaching the top the first hints of acid and 2c-b were felt. By the time we got back down to the 'access branch' (as we'd named the long, thick branch that begun four or five feet off the ground and ended six to twelve feet up the trunk) this tree seemed intent on killing us. Many a culure undoubtedly has many a proverb to describe the experience, but there were jumps involved: the branch you reached for in coming up may have been too high to do anything but jump down from in coming down. This process exhausted an hour or so and one of our companions landed on his arse on a branch jumping from one to another. It is the first and (hopefully) last time I see anybody fall out of a tree. That said, CC successfully amused himself by enunciating his desire to see us rescued by the fire department (which would admittedly have been amusing). We beat him to death and buried him somewhere.
(...Not really.) Once we got down we ate more shrooms. We only left at about dark (16:00). It's difficult to describe this, but on the edge of a field there's an archway. Just an archway. Nothing reminding you of anything, just an archway in the middle of a set of fields. We laugh and continue past it. A few minutes later I decide I want to walk through this lonely archway. We do. All three of us, one after another. While this is occurring I investigate a sign sticking out from the ground nearby and read "hope you're happy choking on balls in heaven". I laugh. Me and one friend double in two and nearly piss ourselves. We continue on. After a while our other friend informs us that this sign read "I hope you're happy playing with balls in heaven".
Ah. A pet cemetary. That's what those houses were doing there.
"That archway was in their garden."
"Oh."
A part of me hopes they didn't see us stumbling through that archway in hysterics and an apparently even greater part of me cracks up at the thought that we did. The Journey back into town will be a long one. It was. It involved me and a friend doubling over periodically, but we'll skip that.
It wasn't until several hours after he'd said he'd be back that W appeared. He'd brought back three grams (well, two and a bit grams). As soon as we'd finished the first line W collapsed, his eyes rolled into the back of his head, snoring deeply with one hand layed across his rotund, hairy belly. Me and J agreed that this was the most repulsive sight we'd ever layed eyes upon, but we continue.
Ketamine is like PlayDough - it has that same taste, and after you do it your mind gains malleability: Soixante-Neuf, Schpongle, Spelunk; stupid words and combinaions of words keep the mind occupied for hours. To this day we say "youy've soixante-neufed it." I'll ring one of 'em up and say "it's J". Not until I say "Woot-woot" will they realise who's calling them.
substancecode_lsd
substancecode_mushrooms
substancecode_2cb
substancecode_ketamine
_combo_
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