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First Time

I had just gotten an oz.

I had just gotten an oz. of mushrooms, my first bag ever. I know it was a lot to get for a first timer, but I figured if I didn't like them I could still make profit by selling them. I got them at my buddy J's, after telling my mom I was watching the special edition of Jedi. Chilled there, smoked some herb, then bought the shrooms. They were the same ones mentioned in my report "Memory Loss".

My "friend" Jeff, who I no longer associate with as he is insane, convinced me that the dosage he picked out for me would provide for an easygoing trip. Mind you, we had to drive home half an hour on the highway. Potent shrooms combined with an antisocial personality disorder caused him to give me over an eighth, and he also took some for himself. Bastard. He could have at least paid me.

They kicked in for him first, since general anxieties prevented me from tripping right away. While I was chilling on the couch, my boy Spence showed up and I told him how much I had eaten. He just shook his head and said something like Chong: "I hope you're not busy for about a month." This did nothing to encourage me, as I had to drive home.

Jeff, however, took this upon himself. Although he was tripping like a mofo and I could have handled the job fine, he didn't want me tweaking out and driving off a cliff. During the ride home, the highway took on an eerie green glow and I swear Mr. Peanut danced in front of my field of vision playing a saxophone.

We finally got home, I dropped Jeff off and drove the rest of the way myself. Only after getting out of the car did I notice that everything was painted in colors of blue and orange, a rather nice effect. Once I got inside, my stepbrother immediately knew something was wrong. It was 11:00 at night, yet all the lights were on. A bust.

He ran upstairs, not wanting to be questioned as he can't lie. I had still not figured out what was going on until my mother and stepfather sat me down and told me my Dad was on the way. I told them it was bedtime and I would talk about it in the morning, wanting nothing more than to go to my tripped out room and chill with the blacklights. They had found my bowl, a scale, some herb, and oh yeah, a DARE street sign in my room. Also some roach clips and assorted other goodies. Mind you, I had an ounce of shrooms bulging out of my pockets.

The doorbell wrang, and my dad stepped in. The sat in front of me, my mother to my left, stepfather in front, and my dad to my right. My stepfather is a Dr. of social work, so he knows all about this kind of thing.

They proceeded the interrogation. To this day, I don't know why they didn't act on their suspicion that I was fuct and search me. Thankfully they didn't, although they must have seen my huge pupils. As they questioned me, I started to rise. They asked why my bowl had been in my backpack, and not thinking I said I had taken it to school. This led them to assume I had smoked before school, which only confused me more as I had only a couple hours ago hidden it in my backpack. I had a half of bud in my ceiling, too, but they didn't find it. I think I told them about the before school thing because I was distracted by the dragon outside the window and the rainbow behind him.

My mother was the worst questionner of them all. She can be very sneaky at times, and usually knows what's going on. As she shot me an extremely concerned glance, each of her eyes grew while the other shrank, then they switched. Very cool. She then put her hand over her mouth in concern, and it looked like a big smile. I was looking at her like, "Whoa...hey ma, cut that out." I almost said it.

All during this interrogation the phone kept ringing, and I knew it to be Jeff on the other line. He kept hanging up, though. This pissed them off and they began to suspect I had been with someone. I reassured them that I had seen Jedi, though, and backed it up with some facts gleaned from memory and recent commercials. Heh heh. Finally, an hour and a half after the beginning of the questioning, I was allowed to go to sleep. It took me ten minutes to walk down the stairs, and I had the same cartoon hallucination as that guy in the Brady Bunch movie 2. Very neat. My dad then appeared at the top of the stairs, wondering why I wasn't in my room. I said "hey" and then walked the rest of the way into my room. I turned on the blacklights and rolled around on the floor, feeling incredible love for something or other. My mom knocked on the door to tell me she would always love me no matter what. I said whatever and then sat in bed, watching MTV's AMP with its trippy music and computer animation.

Around 1, I called Jeff to see what was up. It took approximately 50 rings for him to answer the phone. He had polished off an entire pony keg by himself and needed a sleep aid. What he was talking about was nonsense. The rest of the trip had an air of sadness about it, since I realized by then that I had just gotten busted. I was still ready to do them again, and did so many more times. Now it's time to grow my own.

Boba Fett: kenobi_69@yahoo.com

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