Bleeding tongues

I actually have an affinity for the taste of mushrooms, so while people are struggling to chug them down I am casually munching away. Earlier that day I had had my tongue pierced. If you've ever had this you will be familiar with the swelling, the uncomfortable ache and the huge bar that you begin with. 

Spent a long time sitting in the car, it seemed like a good place to be until we are finally dragged out to enjoy the raging fire that has been built. Seems like a grans opportunity to munch more mushrooms. Laughing uncontrollably for a very long time, we talk, shout, laugh at each other, get stuck in loops, but that's ok because there's someone there to remind you that we'd all taken mushrooms.

Couple of hours go by, all is reasonably well. Vaguely aware of screams to me left. Turns out couple of buddies had been crawling around playing armies, one fell into the stream and had been sitting with his leg in the fire for considerable time. Still, he seems to accept his fate and that his leg is burnt remarkably well. 

Chat and laughter, flame gazing continues, sausages never eaten. Clock strikes midnight, become vaguely aware of something horrible happening in my mouth. Slight chill on chin. Investigate with hand, mouth is streaming blood from where I have been ripping my fresh piercing around ferociously. Never before and never again have I spiraled so deeply and so terribly. As I look I see the blood dripping and expanding, mouth feels like it is on fire, choking on blood, in the blink of an eye I had seen my demise. 

Fled into the woods, ran until I could run no further. I feel my limbs becoming numb as blood is drawn towards the brain, losing what is no longer necessary. With everything I could muster I tried to gather some reason, I had to find the campsite and thus help. No one would be looking yet, I was prone to disappearing for a few hours and returning with a pack of smarties or covered in bramble.

Run but the campsite is nowhere to be found. I curled up in the fetal position, see blood morphing in-front of my eyes, clothes feel soaked, everything is wet, shaking and cold. Wish I could fall unconscious but can't.

Sometime into the next day, the sun is up, it's warm. Now I can see past my outstretched arm I see that I had run for hours through the woods to end up a few yards away from everyone else, it was dark, I had curled up.

As I stand up, buddies appear from over a crest. Apparently some scousers had been camped just over the hill having some booze so forces had been joined. Checked my clothes, no blood, tongue is very sore but only the tiniest crusting of blood on lips. 

Everyone was very happy to see me. Ask them what happened, nobody knows, you ate mushrooms and bopped off.

That was my bad trip. Curiously, to this day, the experience remains one of my fondest and gladdest memories.