*** BEFORE READING THIS REPORT PLEASE FIRST READ THE ORIGINAL IGNORANCE IS BLISS*** So, you'd of thought we'd learnt our lesson.
*** BEFORE READING THIS REPORT PLEASE FIRST READ THE ORIGINAL IGNORANCE IS BLISS***
So, you'd of thought we'd learnt our lesson. Whatever.
After the first mental trip, we couldn't wait for another opportunity to present itself. In order to maximise enjoyment however, we wanted a paranoia free experience which could only be achieved through the wonder of a free house. Fortunately, my dads flat became available for one week only. We were to make the most of it. It was arranged, Thursday morning was to be the day, the shrooms had been purchased and we were set for another wacky time. The night before was a bit of a drinkathon and alcohol was in abundance. Unfortunately this meant that when we consumed the shrooms we were all fairly hung-over so nausea was a likely prospect.
The alarm went off, Thursday morning, the day.....
To try and mask the mouldy taste and slimy texture we purchased some strawberry jam from the shop opposite, however as soon as the sweet sweet taste of jam touched the tongue it was poisoned by the psychodelicness of the mushrooms.
Munch Munch Munch .... Again I was almost sick with vile taste, only this time the wrenching was more severe
After scoffing them intently we braced ourselves for the ride ahead. The Matrix Revolutions was to be film of choice while we waited patiently for the effects to kick in. My comrade (the previous host) was worst hit and spent some time curled up in the bathroom, fearing sickness. This time we had purchased one tub of Cusbensis and one tub of some Tai variety. This spread between four people was about as strong as last time.
After coaxing me out of the bathroom, we all sat expectantly watching the film. I needed the safety of an oddly, almost impossibly shaped bin, just in case I vomited my guts out. The bin incidentally, had a circular base, yet a square mouth; you work it out. We couldn't! Oddly enough it was that bin that gave the first indication that the drug had entered our systems. Looking around, I noticed that all bar one had become disinterested with the film and were instead fixated on some other object.
I glanced around and it became obvious that the others had begun to get effects. The reason I hadn’t was because I, whose pallet was particularly sensitive to the flavour, had swallowed the caps of the mushrooms whole. Meaning they took longer to digest.
>>>> Pictures turned face down
>>>>>>> Faces on faces, on faces
>>>> Squid like hands
>>>>>> Walls moving in
It was then that I knew that I was affected. The suggestion that the walls were moving kick started my effects and the world suddenly became a very bizarre place.
My fascination with the bin had grown stronger. In this amazing bin I had found a whole new world, a world of vivid light and sound. When engulfed by the bin I was completely devoid from the outside world, and entirely unaware of the happenings of my peers.
Expecting a phone call, my paranoia increased....... I had to phone them anyway, to confirm that we were staying another night. Confused and attempting to sound normal I reluctantly dialled home, stupidly telling them that I was in town, to try and deter another phone call. After this, a bizarre thought entered my mind; "If my mum went into town, and saw I wasn't there, she would know that I was in fact at the flat doing drugs". From here on in I was not going to have a good time and sat, unable to fathom any rational thoughts. Meanwhile, unbeknown to me in other rooms of the flat more crazy happenings.........
Our conversation was an unusual one. I had confessed to hiding both a bottle of gin, and my friend’s beanie hat in the microwave. My mate, excited by this idea, suggested that we forage for more belongings to stash for the winter in the microwave. Trying to decide whose toiletries to add to our stockpile was near impossible. I failed to comprehend my friend’s intentions but eventually we managed to get the microwave door shut, safe in the knowledge that we would not perish this winter.
All congregating in the kitchen we decided to make some lunch. Our tipple was bread, lightly garnished with butter. Disgusted that my friends had opened the bread without my consent I protested, before realising that this was probably not a disaster and was merely a shroom induced emotion. While a pint glass of tea was being poured.
Bread and Butter. Usually a rather bland and easy to eat food. However under the influence of shrooms bread did not butter easily, not only this but actually chewing and swallowing it became a disjointed, improbable task. The bread’s texture played havoc with the mind. Bread aside, the shrooms were approaching their peak effect.
>>>>>>> Fridge new world
>>>>>>>>> Butter heavy
>>>>>>>> Gravity reversing, spinning
>>>>>>>>>> Back to the bin
"Get in the living room. Stay out of the kitchen, it's not safe!"
Calming down we all sat and reminisced of years gone by. I say calming down; one of us required the use of the bin, the new mascot. Conversing, we became aware that person four (the Cheltenham rookie) seemed quite depressed. I hear that mushrooms can bring about dormant depression and other mental illnesses, so watch out fellow shroomers. Talk of a shit life, crappy education system and lack of sex were all features of his ranting.
The trip was over and our mindset was returning. Or so we thought..................
After a few minutes the ranting and reminiscing had ceased. Meanwhile one of our crew was helplessly trying to pick a CD from the racks. Hopelessly defeated he sat down and checked his phone for correspondence, after checking he placed his phone into the empty pint glass that once housed the tea. Person four then suggested that the glass be filled with tea. So he entered the kitchen and boiled the kettle. Whilst he was alone in the kitchen we all sat and relaxed, wondering where the missing member was. So I entered the kitchen and found him looking over a pint glass containing his phone (and a tea bag) with the kettle, freshly boiled, in his hand. I removed the phone and questioned his sanity. “Its alright, I know what I’m doing”. The water flowed into the glass, brewing the phone in seconds. He left, unphased, and went to the lavatory.
I rounded up the others to quickly come to see the phone, as if it were some carnival attraction, once there we had plenty of time to remove it but we didn’t. Meanwhile the brewman (as he now known) listened to “He’s boiled his phone!”
Venturing out of the toilet he was greeted by confused laughter and oh so many questions. He replied “It’ll be alright tomorrow” It wasn’t. The phone was ruined.
We all gathered back in the living and began our drinking binge. Safe in the knowledge that boiling water and phones do not mix. On a lighter note, person number four left his will to live slightly lower than the average Homosapien.