"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.