Acid can be your best friend. It can also be your worst enemy.
Brian had tried Acid many times, and every time he did, it was enjoyable. "Pink Floyd's The Wall" finally made sense to him after his first Acid trip. During his second Acid trip, he had sex, with a woman he had wanted to stick it to since he could get an erection.
Every experience with Acid was beautiful and life altering. So, Brian had no reason to be scared when his friend casually offered him some. Right?
It was an average day for Brian and Robert. Sitting around the house playing video games in the dark and smoking weed. Robert had recently hung another sheet in front of the scenic window. The window, if you were outside, looked right into the living room. This is where Brian and Robert did their most nefarious things; such as sex, drugs, or rock 'n' roll. The sheets Robert kept adding, helped block prying eyes from seeing the tenants at vulnerable moments. They also helped to block the sun, which kept the room dark, that's the way Robert liked it. Through the darkness, you could faintly see a fog of marijuana smoke.
"Hey." Robert said never taking his eyes off the screen. "I know a girl that said she could get her hands on some Acid."
"Is it any good?" Brian asked, inhaling second hand marijuana smoke with each breath.
Questioning his own judgement Robert said, "I think I can trust her."
"Well then we should do some. I got nothing to do today."
It had been a long time since Brian had last done Acid. His brain was buzzing around his head excited by what was about to come. Acid is like steroids for your brain, it improves performance, but all your ideas come with an asterisk. Excited by the endless scenarios of acidic adventures, Brian harassed Robert, and would not stop, until the moment Acid touched his tongue.
"Fine! I'll call her." Robert yelled, after the fifth time Brian asked him to get it.
Robert called his friend. She was available. She had Acid. She was going to drop it off in a half hour. It was 10 dollars a hit.
"I'll get three." Brian said with pride.
One hit was what Brian took the first time he tripped. One hit was the amount Brian took the second time he tripped. He should have taken two on his second trip, but he didn't have enough. This was going to be Brian's third trip, so it made sense for him to take three hits.
"I'm just going to get one." Robert now had reservations about only getting one.
The order was in. Robert's female friend was set to be there in a half hour with four hits of Acid. The lady arrived on time with the Acid. Brian handed the lady forty dollars worth of money, and the lady handed him forty dollars worth of Acid in a very small baggie. The baggie was filled with four sugar cubes - moistened with Acid - something Brian had heard of, but never seen. They each said their goodbyes and the lady left. Brian quickly grabbed his three sugar cubes from the bag and shot them into his mouth.
"Here's yours." Brian said, through the crumbling sugar cubes dissolving in his mouth, as he threw the baggie at Robert.
Robert grabbed his single sugar cube and popped it into his mouth unsatisfied. "Now what?" Questioned Robert.
"We wait for magic to happen." Brian smiled sinisterly.
It took about an hour before the Acid kicked in, at least for Brian. He was lying on the floor drawing circles in the air and humming circus music. He began to laugh at himself. The laughter sounded fake, but turned real - Too real - It went on for an inordinate amount of time, and became hard to watch.
"I don't think mine's working." Robert was envious of Brian. "I want to feel like you feel. I think I'm going to leave the house."
Brian's laughter ended abruptly. He shot Robert a stare of death. "You can't leave me alone." He was on the verge of crying.
"Why? I just don't think the Acid is working, maybe if I change my environment the Acid will work better." Robert said convincingly.
"That's sound logic." Brain said, unable to think of an excuse for Robert to stay. "Well, if you're going to leave can you wait for me. I just have to pee"
"Fine." Robert sighed.
Brian went to the bathroom to empty his bladder. As the trail of urine evacuated the urethra, he was fascinated. It looked as though the urine was coming from another entity. There was no sensation, if he couldn't see the pee he wouldn't have known it was exuding from his penis. He could feel nothing. This was the moment Brian realized that the trip was beginning - and there was no turning back.
Brian ran out of the bathroom, eagerly wanting to tell Robert about his urine. He started down the hallway, and was amazed by the patterns on the wall. He had lived in the house for three years but never really noticed it's true beauty. Imagining the artists state of mind, Brian tried to reverse engineer the paint job on the hallway wall.
"He started here." Brian said pointing at a lower part of the wall "And then he went up and around." Brian began dancing around in the hallway, kin to a rhythmic gymnast, mentally reverse painting the wall.
Astonished by what he now thought was his own creation, Brian rushed into the living room to tell Robert about his newly found painting skills.
When Brian entered from the hallway and into the living room, what he seen was very peculiar. Someone had moved all the furniture from the living room into the kitchen. There was no space in the kitchen, you couldn't even get a soda, if you wanted one. The television and X-Box were left in the living room, and someone had fashioned a chair out of some old clothes and a dirty sheet. But Robert was nowhere to be found.
Brian's mind began to race. When a friend goes missing and your sober, there are a million scenarios you run through, trying to imagine every thing that could have happened; He could have died, he was kidnapped, he left with some friends, he got a call form his mom, he had to work, he went to the store, he went for a walk. However, Brian was on acid, and ran through even more scenarios than the average sober person; he learned magic and made himself disappear, he wanted a pet wolf and got eaten, he discovered how to time travel, he camouflaged himself.
Brian had so many ideas of what could have happened to Robert, but nothing was definite. Fatigued by the disappearance of his friend. Brian decided that Robert had went to the store and would be back soon, and sat down on the chair of clothes coming to terms with the fact that, for the time being - he was alone - on Acid - and terrified.
Being alone on Acid is much different than having somebody with you. There is no one to discuss the trip with. You only have yourself, if something scares you, no one can calm you down. If you cry, no one can make you laugh. Being alone doesn't always mean your trip is going to go astray. It matters greatly on the context of your loneliness. If you start your trip alone, it won't be a shock to you later on. But Brian started his trip with a good friend, now at the peak of the trip, he had been left alone. This can do a lot to the brain.
In an attempt to escape himself, Brian put on a movie. He figured he'd pick something visually interesting so he chose a David Lynch film, last time he did mushrooms (a drug similar to Acid) he watched Blue Velvet (a David Lynch film) and really enjoyed it.
Elephant man was the movie he finality chose. It was a David Lynch movie that Brian had hear much about, but had never seen it.
The Elephant man is a more dramatic narrative, it's not as surreal as some of David Lynch's other films. The titular Elephant Man was a real man named Joseph Merrick. A severely deformed man who is gawked at by the rich and famous.
One point in the movie the Elephant Man has a date with a lady, it's very sweet. you get to see how, even though Joseph is hideous, he's a lovely man. He shares with the woman some pictures of his family and friends. The thought being that if she could see the people who loved him, she could love him too. Around this point in the date, a group of street urchins ruin the date and run around the room taunting and yelling at the Elephant Man. A particularly hard to watch scene.
Brian had just been abandoned by his best friend. He was never confident about his appearance, and had been taunted his entire life. He identified with the Elephant Man and cried uncontrollably. Tears fell from Brian's eyes with the force of a waterfall. He could taste his own tears, and the taste was only heightened by the Acid. Brian began to cry harder and his tears tasted better. After crying for what could have been four hours, he grabbed a pen and began to write;
Man's worst burden to carry, is that of himself.
What do other people do that make them better than me. I can communicate, make decisions. I have a brain, a mind, two legs and two arms. I am man. I chose to be this way because although I am man, other humans exist, and they have all the same thoughts and feeling as me. I forgot where I began.
I wish more people liked me, but then again what do I do with that feeling, Can I rely on you? No! you can't rely on anyone. But isn't that what we're all looking for, some one to be our rock, our home point. Someone or something that you can throw yourself into. Someone you can drop all the shit and just be vulnerable with. Not somebody who says "it's ok" when your crying, but someone who will allow it, and just let you cry. Someone to share our ideas with.
I have no ideas. I think I do, but are any of them worthwhile. Everyone has a mind. What makes what I think better than what somebody else thinks. I need to be funnier.
I thought about someone reading this and what they would think of me. What i imagined was laughter. But if everybody feels the same as me, why do I experience discomfort imagining their laughter.. That sentence was stupid. I don't remember what I wanted to say. Why do i always assume people think i'm weird. I'm not evil.
I'm so desperate for attention. Is there a magic way to stop thinking bad thoughts about yourself. That's what I need. I wish more people liked me.
I'm realizing i've already said that. Everything is going in a circle. So i want to cry, and I'll watch you cry. Why am i writing this. No one's going to read this. This is a Diary entry. literally. I only started writing to get me through this difficult time. Is it really a difficult time, or do i make it difficult on my self?
Thanks. You helped me a lot.
It may not be coherent. But it got Brian through the difficult time. After finishing his writing, he closed the book and the door opened. If Brian had been sober he wouldn't have thought twice about it. But Brian was on Acid, so obviously he assumed that by closing the book the he caused the door to open. But you can't assume magic from only one try, so Brian opened the book, waiting for the door to close and prove his magical abilities to be real. The door closed as he opened the book, and Brian realized he was magic. Because not only did his book open and close a door it also made Robert appear.
Now it's hard to say whether or not Brian actually had magical abilities. But, when Brian and Robert were finally reunited that night;
It truly was magic.
© Copyright 2016 Devin Williamson. All rights reserved.
Short Story / Thrillers
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