This was it, I had planned and prepared for this night for almost two weeks, my mom was out of town and I had the house to myself for the weekend. It was the perfect setting for my first real adventure with shrooms. I got off work around 10pm and by 10:30 I had consumed a cap of MDMA and a little over 4 grams of that wonderful fungus.
It was around 11:00 when the MDMA kicked in and I could feel the shrooms on the way, I smoked a joint, Some friends showed up at about 11:15,The effects of the shrooms were totally upon me. We smoked some bowls out of my large glass hammer-pipe, which seemed to come to life as the paint designs on it swirled and breathed. I suggested we play hacky-sack which we did for a good half-hour, mostly just so I could watch the tracers off the sack.
However it was some-where in this time that a major event that would dictate the most part of my trip occurred, I put my dog in the upstairs of my house so he would stop interfering with our game.
Some time passed and I started to peak, The world was coming alive and I loved it. My friends had to leave (I didn't care at this point) so I went upstairs so I could lock the door behind them and sit in my family room which has a floral pattern wallpaper and a large persian rug. It was here that I had planned to spend my peak thinking deep thoughts, listing to music, and watching the show.
But then every thing seemed to go afoul. "Hey man your front door is wide open!" said one of my friends. Two seconds later it hit me "Oh shit" I said, "my fucking dog is gone!" I started calling his name but it was no use that little bastard was long gone. And before I knew what hit me my "friends" were long gone as well those bastards.
I had done acid before but it was here that I got my first taste of a bad trip. I shut the front door and went down the hall to get my coat, which I could not find; the walls caved in on top of me as thoughts of my dog getting crushed under some ass-holes car tires. I could not breath and could not move, this fucking sucks, but then I pulled it together, "I know where my coat is" I yelled, running with more determination then I’ve had in all of my life I grabbed my coat from the closet and went to the front door.
I opened it wide feeling like Mosses or some such biblical badass but when I went to call my dogs name the voice of a little boy who had lost his puppy came out. Nothing happened for a second, then something in the darkness moved, then my dog, my best friend in the world came bounding out of the hedges past me in to the family room of my house. I slammed the door shut, locked it, and ran after him.
When I entered the room he was sitting in the center of the rug which was growing out onto the white carpet of the rest of the room the flowers on the walls had taken over the ceiling. I laughed a crazy, satisfied, and relieved laugh and sat down next to my dog who began running around the room, jumping over the couch and me and in the end biting the hell out of my right hand. I didn't blame him nor did I care I sat there laughing, and petting my friend for the next hour or so (who knows it could have been ten minutes), watching the flowers grow, and thinking that even if the night had gone as planned I don't think it would have been even a tenth as great.