"Dude, open up!" Jamster cracked open one eye to see Bob, bouncing on the balls of his feet like a hyper puppy on espresso. The time on his microwave glowed a belligerent 3:47 AM. "What's up, Bob?" he rasped, his voice thick with sleep.
Bob shoved a giant, neon carrot in his face. "Not important. The Easter Bunny needs our help!" Jamster followed Bob's manic gaze to see the Easter Bunny himself, chilling on his porch in a neon tracksuit that seemed custom-designed for a rave, and bunny ears that pulsed like a strobe light.
"Hey, what's up?" Bob yelled, practically vibrating with barely contained excitement. "Apparently the Easter egg rave is out of juice, and the Bunny needs, uh, your special stash to recharge them, man."
Jamster blinked, then slowly sat up. This was even weirder than that time they tried writing music with a flock of hyperactive pigeons high on birdseed laced with something they swore wasn't catnip. "The Easter Bunny has a rave?" He looked at the glowing bunny ears, then back at Bob. "Alright, you win. Come on in."
Bob snatched a glowing egg, the size of a cantaloupe, and the room pulsed with a beat that vibrated Jamster's fillings. The Easter Bunny materialized a set of turntables out of thin air, looking far cooler than Jamster ever thought possible for someone in carrot jammies that shimmered like a disco ball. Jamster, ever the chill dude, grabbed his strongest weed, a strain so potent it had a name that could only be whispered – Chronobreak. One hit, and the world swirled around them in a kaleidoscope of color.
They landed in a place that defied description. Imagine Willy Wonka's chocolate factory redecorated by a rave-obsessed teenager with a bottomless budget and a serious case of ADHD. Giant lollipops pulsed with neon light, rivers of chocolate flowed to the beat, and candy floss clouds drifted overhead. Gummy bears in tiny raver outfits bounced on trampolines made of marshmallows, and a whole crew of lollipops were breakdancing with surprising agility.
Jamster blasted the first beat, a heady mix of drum and bass and frenetic candy-coated melodies. The crowd, a motley crew of sweets and chocolate bunnies hopped and jiggled, their sugar highs amplified by the potent bass. Bob, channelling his inner dancing dervish, became a human windmill fueled by Red Bull and Chronobreak. The Easter Bunny, surprisingly nimble for someone with such a prominent belly, moonwalked across the stage, tossing glowing eggs into the turntables like a techno wizard.
The night was a blur of pulsing lights, thumping bass, enough confetti to rival a Times Square New Year's celebration, and enough weed smoke to choke a cloud giant. Finally, as a faint pink glow peeked through the, ahem, rave dimension, the power surged back on in the real world. The Easter Bunny, ears pulsing one last time, gave them a funky bunny-eared thumbs up and vanished in a poof of glitter and carrot cake sprinkles, leaving behind a single glowing egg the size of a quail egg.
Back in his basement, the faint scent of carrot cake and burnt Chronobreak lingering in the air, Bob mumbled, "Whoa, man. That was… intense." Jamster grinned. "Just another Tuesday saving raves with the Easter Bunny, Bob. Another Tuesday." He stashed the glowing egg on his shelf, a reminder of the wildest night he hadn't even planned on having. Maybe next time, Bob would show up with a craving for pizza instead.
YOU ARE READING
Jamster the drum and bass stoner..
Short StoryPot smoking, drum, and bass addict up to no good..
