Disclaimer: "This actually happened. Allegedly."
-Samson.
I must admit, despite my history with drugs I have always avoided Salvia. It has come up over the years, and I've managed to steer clear. That is before my associate Mr. Powers came along. How could I say no to a fellow Space Monkey? A new experience is always nice to have. But before I dive in, a quick warning. A week before this night, I had blasted off to space. Timing psychedelics so close to each other is risky business. Quite frankly, it has taken me a few days to come back to reality. I've felt displaced. So what I'm trying to say is take breaks from launches, let yourself reset. All right let's dive in..
August. Friday evening.
I'm off work. Couldn't wait. Our launch of a new rocket has been planned for a week now. Mr. Cowboy calls me just in time to join in. Meets at the fresh recruit's house. Mr. Powers had found us Salvia a week prior. It's a freaky drug, which lasts for minutes, but has sent shivers down the spines of most of those who know of it. Complete disassociation. Damn, these experiments are reaching into dark waters. The deep savage lying within me feels at ease. He can't wait. On the surface, I'm a little nervous. Actually quite nervous. Although I am growing to enjoy even the darkest of trips...
Rock, paper, scissors decides our first test pilot. Mr. Powers is up. I'm second. After witnessing Mr. Powers' trip, I feel slightly more at ease. I will leave an option open for a more detailed report on his flight. Maybe through a guest write up.
The pipe reaches my hand. The fuel is loaded. Torch is lit. A deep breath, as my heart pounds.
"Fucken do it", I think, and the pipe hits my mouth. Smoke fills my lungs. I hold on as long as I can. But my rocket is a dud. Couldn't break the atmosphere. In attempt to let ground control know, laughter spews out of my mouth. Incessant laughter. One can't stop himself. The ability to speak words seem to have been replaced. A shotty attempt at sign language tries to speak out: "I need another dose". Futile it seems. And I'm back.
Mr. Cowboy is up. Again, I will leave the option open for a guest column. Their trips are theirs and I have no right to speak about them. All questions can be directed to our lawyers over at:
https://twitter.com/SpaceMonkeyCorp
I believe both Mr. Cowboy and I had misfires. But we both return for a 2nd run, at the same time. Mr. Cowboy's eyes shut and he's sent off. I'm left in wonder,
"Is it working?"
Without warning, I'm launched like a sling. My mind can't comprehend what has happened, it was too quick. I'm in a field? In shock. But part of me feels like it remains in the room. Looking down, a large hole fills my chest and standing in front of me is a dark figure holding a gun. Shock really sets in now. Throbbing fills my head. And we're off again. It seems we're stuck. Certainly we're on a version of Earth. What am I? A lamp post? A wall? A fence? It seems I'm flying through dimensions. Getting stuck and ripped out. Tossed around a cycle, unable to find where I started. I'm stretched through dimensions. Who ever is guiding me sure is forceful. I'm not sure how much longer I can take this.. my mind can't handle getting ripped through objects. The throbbing won't go away. The further I'm taken, the more lost I feel. A blender of dimensions. I can't get out. Warping in circles. Around and around.
Wait... I hear them, I can return. Almost feels like I have to catch myself. A whirlpool has me. I must reach for safety. I grab hold. I'm back. Briefly I look into the new Space Monkey's eyes. Out of my mouth comes,
"I'm tired. I do not want to be here anymore."
And my grip comes loose. The whirlpool takes me, and terror fills my head,
"What if I can't get back?"
Again I reach. My mind has been stretched has far as it can go. My anchor has shattered. This is my one my chance. I reach and pull myself out. I'm back. But I feel off. Almost removed from reality. Was a part of me lost? Or do I just need a reset..? I must rest.
I keep asking whether I'm truly here. My associates assure me I am. Doesn't feel like it. Feels like I have felt similar dimensions. The Mandela effect comes to mind. A reset will be nice. Space Monkeys must remember, rest is good. Keeps one together..................................................................... ................................................................................................................................................................... ............zdfgsdfhdhjjyylyuktjzh\srghyarfhsertrhaethrztmjkyu;lgu99['hpp\8olzs4etwww.
Darkness.
"He he. Howdy to our pleasant audience. Please refrain from reaching out of the vehicle during the ride. One can never tell what could happen."
5.
FADE IN.
INT. TV SCREEN - CLOSE UP - FIELD
Out in a grassy field and standing by his lonesome on a cold night, is Steve, an average looking man. He stands bare, no clothes to be seen.
Steve yawns. He's bored.
Out past the fence, SHOUTING can be heard. It's a farmer and his boy. What's that in the Farmer's hand?
It's a shotgun.
The Farmer aims his gun towards Steve.
INT. TV - CLOSE UP to 360 TURN - BLAND ROOM
The Camera Man pulls back from the TV set. Angle on BLAND ROOM. POV SHOT.
Pulling back from the TV, the Camera Man turns out facing the other side of the room. Standing on a chair in the middle of the room is, Steve an average looking man. He's stroking a cat with a dull look about him.
A door on the side of the room , KNOCKS. The Camera Man walks over to answer the door. The door is opened out of view.
Steve is on the other side of the door. He seems bored. The Camera Man takes a step back, and turns to the middle of the room. There in the middle of the room is a cat, a rather odd looking cat, standing on a stool. The cat is stroking Steve.
The Camera Man turns back towards the door.
Steve, who is holding a gun and bearing a wide smile. takes up the whole frame.
BANG.
INT. TV SCREEN - CLOSE UP - FIELD
Out in a grassy field and standing by his lonesome on a cold night, is Steve, an average looking man. He stands bare, no clothes to be seen.
Steve yawns. He's bored.
Out past the fence, SHOUTING can be heard. It's a farmer and his boy. What's that in the Farmer's hand?
It's a shotgun.
The Farmer aims his gun towards Steve.
Farmer
I'm gunna shoot that damn queer.
The Farmer's Boy is shocked.
Boy
Dad, you can't!
Farmer
Can't what?
Boy
You can't say queer anymore, dad.
The Camera Man pulls back from the TV set. Angle on BLAND ROOM. POV SHOT.
Pulling back from the TV, the Camera Man turns out facing the other side of the room. Standing on a chair in the middle of the room is, Steve an average looking man. He's stroking a cat with a dull look about him.
A door on the side of the room , KNOCKS. The Camera Man walks over to answer the door. The door is opened out of view.
Steve is on the other side of the door. He seems bored. The Camera Man takes a step back, and turns to the middle of the room. There in the middle of the room is a cat, a rather odd looking cat, standing on a stool. The cat is stroking Steve.
The Camera Man turns back towards the door.
Steve, who is holding a gun and bearing a wide smile. takes up the whole frame.
BANG.
FADE OUT.
Thank you for taking the time to read my work, as silly as it may be, I do appreciate it. For now my brain needs a nice little reset. We did have a third outing but I may keep that one to myself. So until at least the new year I am on leave from Space Camp. Happy flying mutha fuckas.
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