"April Fools" Takes on a New Meaning.
I
wish I was talking about the
troll attack.
I
wish I was talking about something on the
internet, something intangible, something that is just a few zeroes and ones being cast into a sea of zeroes and ones.
No, this is worse, this is actual
people, not handles on a website, not names we give ourselves, nothing like
JayStile, this is actuall people with
veins, and
nerves, and
brains (presumably they have
brains, but I'm not so sure sometimes).
I guess I'll
dig into the story telling and quit my
bitching.
So I go out with my
friend, and munch some
mushrooms, not many, just about a
quarter between three people>
Me, my friend Lindsley and Sean, a guy who we both know and has always seemed
cool enough.
So we go to a local place that shows
The Simpsons on a big screen, and Sean just sits in the car.
We go in and leave him alone, it bothers us that he's all alone in the
car, just
tripping out by himself, but there is really nothing we can do about it.
So after The Simpsons, we go to the car and drive to Seans house, and he's really
spun out, he can't even talk, and I want to go home, Lindsley wants to go home, and Sean can't move or
talk.
(Note: We all are still
tripping, not
hard, but hard enough to make this very surreal).
So we go by Seans house, and drop him off, and before he gets out of the car he mumbles something, then gets out.
We all notice that his
pants are soaked as he walks away, and Cela (a friend of mine who we met earlier, who was sitting next to Sean in the
back seat) is wet.
If you can't put the peices together, you must not have much
experience with dead-beats.
So Sean
pissed himself, and my back seat.
We all go into a
craze as I drive away.
I begin
tripping out about if my
parents find out and go
berzerk about some guy
pissing in the car, so we all just kind to stumble our way to the
solution of going to the store, getting some
pet stain and
odor remover and cleaning the back seat out.
(That may seem like an obvious
solution, but keep in mind that two out of the 3 people were
tripping on mushrooms.)
So we clean the car out and I bring eveyone to their destinations.
I've realized that
the car is evil.
I don't like driving.
I don't like the nature of going
places, I like being somewhere, instead of being in
transit.
The car just signifies my not being
satisfied with something, and it has become a metaphor of
unhappiness to me because driving means going somewhere else.
I like being in my
home, a friends home, the coffee house, the movie theatre, I love being at work, I just hate the
buffer zone between these places that is my car.