400k wds, some neologisms. Story of a young bohemian bawn and bred in the briar patch that lay between the borders of St. Elvis Era and the Eleusinian Feels of alternity.
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Then there was the time they took the Black Acid.
"It's black, man."
"I know. So what?"
"So you think we should take it?" Bubba asked, "I mean, geez, I never saw any black acid before."
"Just like any other acid," Fleebus replied, "black, yellow, purple, what difference does it make? I mean, it's all the same chemical, LSD-25."
"I dunno know about that. Seems like every different color of acid we ever had, the trip was different. And the same color, the trips had the same quality. Like Purple Microdot, every time you take it, the trip has the same sort of colors, the same sort of hallucinations, no matter where you got it, no matter when you got it. And different from any other color acid."
"I think that's all in our heads. You know how much acid depends on setting and circumstances, the mood you're in, the people you're with, whether or not you like whatever activity they're into at the moment."
"Yeah, well there are different impurities in different tabs, too."
"Purple Microdot doesn't leave much room for impurities."
"Yeah, well..."
They looked each other in the eyes.
"If we dood it, we git's a whoopin'," said Fleebus.
"WE DOOD IT!" they exclaimed in harmony, and popped the tabs.
"Wonder if it's Satanist acid?" Bubba mused as it slid down his throat.
"Fine time to bring that up."
"Naw, it's okay, I've had Satanist acid before. It was Purple Double-Dome. Great stuff! I got beat up and arrested by the cops!"
"Sounds like fun to me! Let's stay away from cops, though."
"You're preachin' to the choir, Padre!"
"Yeah boy! Wanna go see Stan?"
"Sure."
So they bopped on down to Stan's place as the sun was setting.
There were about ten people at Stan's, sitting around the TV, passing pipes and joints. For once, it wasn't between channels. The old black-and-white show "Twilight Zone" was under weigh. It was an episode in which an old hillbilly 'coon hunter was out with his dog Ol' Rip at night, chasing a 'coon. The 'coon ran across a branch hanging over a stream. The dog jumped right in the stream and immediately went under. The old man yelled, "Rip!" and jumped in after him, but he went under, too.
