EAST LANSING, Mich. — Reports show that despite the acid you took having kicked in only five minutes ago, you have somehow been absolutely losing your goddamn mind for the past seven hours.
“I don’t want to be a frog,” you attempted to say to your friends no less than two dozen times as they watched you hyperventilate and rub the carpet, your Adam’s apple bobbing in your throat, unaware that you have at least eight far more intense hours to look forward to. “Oh God, please, I don’t want to be a frog. Get me out of here, get me out of this pot, it’s boiling, I can’t breathe, it’s too hot, oh God, oh God, I can’t breathe because of the commercial, you know the commercials? You have to get to work.”
The reactions of your friends have ranged from concerned to wildly amused to deeply annoyed.
“Well, they said they could handle it,” said your friend who gave you the window pane and repeatedly asked that you just imagine a nice dog you like, or that you’re in a giant field where you won’t run into any cops or parents or teachers. “I only threw them a tab and a half, but apparently it was a little too much for them to actually swallow in one go. They’ll be fine, though, once they ride it out. This shit’s high quality, definitely not some random research chemical. I know the chemist personally. They’ll be fine. I’m just glad I won’t be around them three to six hours from now.”
Your housemate, however, is less than amused.
“You’re just going to feed some kid who’s only ever done a couple ounces of Cubensis the purest LSD you could find on campus, the night before some of us work, just for shits and giggles to see what happens?” your friend stated, while cleaning up three abandoned attempts at making Kool Aid in your shared kitchen. “What the fuck is wrong with you people? I hate this house. I really fucking hate it here. It’s just one long jaunt after another. ”
At press time, the walls are continuing to pulsate a dim, foggy color as you fell through an endless white void and slipped in and out of linear time.