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and this one is a bunny... and here is an

  • and this one is a bunny... and here is an owl... now one more shadow before you go to bed." "Can you make the octopus again?" "I don't recall making an octopus."

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  • "I don't recall you." "I don't recall myself." "God?" "No. I refuse." Jean Paul began to giggle, shattering the illusion of hip existential despair. "Oh shit, this is some really

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  • heavy weed maaaaaaan." Jean Paul collapsed and rolled around in total high foolery. Someone with some class grabbed a hockey stick and batted him around. I needed to get to the

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  • guy with the drugs so I could join in the fun. While the crowd played hockey with the high Jean Paul as their puck, I looked about for Dan the Man.

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  • He was standing right behind me, smelling my hair. "Try some ketamine. Relieves chronic pain, treatment resistant depression & makes your brain grow new connections. It's a trip."

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  • "OK. I'll try anything once." I swallowed the pill, and before I could say dissociative anesthetic, I was sliding down into k-land. He was right: no pain. In fact, I couldn't feel

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  • anything at all. I was lost in crazed agony of something horrible that made no sense to me. The sky was turning green, the wind seemed to be blowing 200 miles an hour, and I

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  • felt as if my brain hemispheres had split apart and were dancing a waltz inside my cranium. As the universe swirled around me in vertical vortices, I reached for my pillbox.

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  • These migraines were a killer. If only they stopped long enough for me to have a decent conversation with - well, anyone at this point. They were so bad that even remembering how t

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  • o finish the last line of my FoldingStory seemed... Uhhhhh.... Ooooooooo....

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