Loss of logical conciousness

It must be said, before i begin this story, that the subject in question was not i but a friend, who we will call Shaggy, for it is his nickname amongst the kids at our school, for his appearence so close to that of Shaggy from Scooby-doo. It goes without saying that this experience will be depicted from a strictly third-person perspective, and not through the eyes of the tripper in question.

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The story starts as three friends, kren, little jake, and ginger are chillin at little jakes house, and have been planning this day for a while, for it is the first time in a while they will be doing shrooms. as the three merrily consume their magic mush, chatting happily and feeling fine before the uncomfortable phase sets in, they hear a ring at the door, suddenly remembering that they had told Shaggy that he could come over this friday. Pleased to find that the subject was in possesion of his own 5 grams of the shrooms, they instructed him to devour the bag, unaware of how much it actually was. No one saw Shaggy eat the shrooms, until he came strutting from the bathroom, bag in hand, shroom in mouth with a big smile spread across his face, as though he were eating a bag of scoobie-snacks.

as the trip began to set in, the nagging weakness coming on and the uncomfortable phase well underway, the four friends lay in different spots about the room talking about how they feel and what kinds of visuals they were encountering thus far. the trip became more enjoyable as time passed, they were waiting for the sitter, big jake, to come back from the hospital. there was lots of laughter, some good visuals and four happy trippers, having a good time. apperently at this point they were seeing lemurs on the ceiling, hearing robot voices, witnessing little black sperm like creatures scurrying about the floor. then I (big jake) arrived at little jakes.

I entered the house, fully aware they had already consumed the mushrooms and certain that they were well on their tripping way, i could see they were all laughing, and they all seemed very happy. as soon as i arrived i found they had left me a gram (due to a brain condition we decided to heavily moderate my intake in case they were bad shrooms) and i hastily devoured the gram in a yogurt cup. we smoked a bowl and had a few cigarettes, but subsequently decided to leave little jakes because his dad would be getting home shortly, and i decided it would be a better idea to pick an ounce of weed off our dealer, SAB, and so we texted SAB and started on our way to my house, which is literally a minute or two from Little Jakes, and we stopped at krens on the way to pick up about a hundred and fifty bucks for our O.

the whole time we were walking, i didnt notice much in the way of tripping, i saw Shaggy doing facial contortions and sticking out his toungue at the back of the pack, and i was maintaing staedy conversation with ginger, who seems to be very cronic and very talkative during shroom trips, unlike the other three. now apperently the walk from my house to SAB was the peak of the experience, but what was to follow was the peak of all things hilarious.

we arrived at my house and all filed into my room, everything was good until i realized Shaggy was no longer with us. i returned to the front door and found Shaggy standing at the door, eyes wide open, door wide open, and i told him to come in immediatly to avoid my family seeing this spectacle. he just shrugged his arms as if he didnt give a flying f*ck what i was saying. i had to push him in the door and force him to my room. we realized right away that we had no lighter, and thus no way to smoke the weed or cigs, so me and kren went on an expedition to retrieve a lighter from down the street, talking happily about how MANGLED Shaggy was, and laughing hystrically. while we were gone, Shaggy was sitting on a chair in the middle of my bedroom, quite simply convulsing. this was a scary spectacle for the other trippers, as they thought Shaggy was actually about to die. when me and kren returned to my room we found Shaggy, coughing and heaving as if to throw up, but when we asked him what was wrong or if he needed to throw up, he would just do that same palms up hands on the knees shrug motion and continue. so we filed out to my garage and sat down. Shaggy sits, and he sat for about five minutes until he started bending and contorting in the chair and kicking my car, which was just to left of the circle of chairs. he could not bring himself to make any sensible speech come from his mouth, nor could he physically depict agreement or disagreement. little jake was hunched over in a world of his own, simply trying to survive, and taking the odd drag of a smoke or hit of a weed-bullet bowl, almost in the same catatonic state as Shaggy, kren was quite content but never talkative, ginger was still cronic and full of speech, but he was, to his credit, the only person i could have a logical conversation with, although he seldom grasped the point of what i said. we ended the blazing and smoking session, and decided to file out, Shaggy could not get up, and he looked pissed when we tried to lift him, and us putting his shoes on the wrong feet was probably not helping, and he still could not talk, and couldnt move, he managed to strain a "one second" finger to us and we left him, in the garage, for ten minutes while my dad drove me to the neighbourhood macs to retrieve drinks for the others. i got back from a WILD car ride (manic laughter, scary visions, rude vibes and bad nervousness) and went to retrieve Shaggy, who was now standing, on the far side of the garage, in the very corner. as soon as i entered he began to walk towards me with the big smile back on his face, i carefully and courteously told him that we needed to go in, he agreed logically and to my suprise, was now seeming just fine. we went in and we had a good chill session, inside in the warmth away from a cold Canadian January, listening to for the most part good music (ABANDONALLSHIPS, Classified, and some other shitty metal, that sucked, that ginger put on for whatever reason) and we were all quite contented, talkin about how ridiculous time was moving, and struggling to grasp the changing room, but calming down, and we all seemd to be for the most part done tripping. after rolling a nice spliff in my rolling a nice spliff in my room, we all file out to the garage -perfectly normal- and begin to blaze. at this point our friend, L, showed up. he is a smart kid and very experienced in the feild of drug knowledge, he should have really known what to do.

so we are in the garage, and suddenly we all go, "SHIT! WHERE IS SHAGGY?" and i go back inside, to find him, arms spread in eagle mode, as if pretending to be a airplane, standing over his coat, completely oblivious to reality. i manage to slowly coax him, with L's help, outside, after minutes of just standing there trying to get him to understand. he made it out to the garage and began trippin the f*ck out. we were all laughing as we blazed the spliff and a few bullet bowls. we all decided it was time to go in, but Shaggy was still out there. i had to get him inside this time, i had left him for a few minutes last time but he might risk frostbite, the flu or hypothermia from being out too long in the Canadian winter. i begin to slowly talk him into standing up, and one step at a time, or at one step every five or so minutes he began to move toward the door. i was answering questions for him trying to make things clear, he just said "i dont understand" or make an inaudible grunting noise and looking at me like i was from outer space when i said "what?". as he made his way to the door at the back of the garage he would ask me things like "what grade am i in?", "am i gay?" or "what is my name?". he would also make statements like "right here", "cold" "three", an extended "ssshhhhrrroooooooooooommsssss" or "Shaggy" followed by "thats my name, not my name" he did this for maybe twenty minutes as i was trying to get him in. suddenly he said "oh, we're here?" walked up onto the deck and he started doing the same thing again with the odd statements and looking at my like i was an alien, i had the door wide open and was trying to discreetly get him to come in, because my family was all around me, being a small house. i heard my youngest brother run into my room and go "why is Shaggy just standing in the door?" followed by a chorus of laughter. my whole family saw me trying to coax some guy tripping balls into the house, and my dad solemly explained to them that it was just a bad mushroom trip. hilarious for kids of 11 and 9. i asked my dad what to do and he told me to lovingly push him into my room, so i did, almost stopping to let him take his shoes off but no, he cant do that, and i had to get this guy out of sight, fast. i pushed him to my room.

at this point, it must have been horrible for him, L, who was suppposed to be smart about this kind of the thing but was actually to baked to do so, was not making things any better. none of us were. five right-minded guys sitting around listening to Protest and Veil of Maya laughing at this poor sucker who was wacked out of his shull on BAD mushrooms (noticeably shitty, bad endurance, poor trip quality) and making him trip out. well, i dont know if he could hear what we were saying, or even if he knew we were there, but if he did, that probably wasnt helping. we ended up sitting around laughing at him for two hours while a pair of us at a time went out to blaze and smoke. Shaggy was still comatose, and unresponsive to any form of speech or gesture. he kept going "fight?" and moving his fists as if punching a punching bag in slow motion, L walked right up to Shaggy's face and Shaggy simply said L's favourite number right to his face, "seven". he would make these sorts of grunts and sometimes singe words that would make absolutely no sense. as time went by, ginger left (as did the bad metal at that time) and then came the departure of Kren and L, on their way back to Krens for blaze and burn.

the mood changed drastically at that point. i put on Solsbury Hill by Peter Gabriel and me and little jake sat and talked, trying our best to include Shaggy in the conversation, we even mangaed to get his first physical response out of him, a nod to the question of whether he thought that he could walk home, making us feel good. as time passed and good music and pleasent vibes kept rolling Shaggy seemed to just snap back onto it and suddenly joined conversation as if he hadnt missed a beat. he remembered nothing about what had happened, but we just chuckled and told him we'd talk to him later about what he saw and what he had done, a happy ending to a very scary trip.