Jalapeno in A Kaleidoscope (933 hits)
Category: HumorRating: 1.94 on 18 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by WookieSuave (View user info) at 2007-03-01 20:56:55 EST
I've been sitting in front of my laptop for about the last hour wondering how to go about completing this personal essay and I have decided just now how to get it done. The original idea for this piece is quite simple. WookieSuave, alone in the living room of his small apartment, notepad tied to his left arm, pen tied to his right. A few cans of coca cola are present along with some over priced order-in pizza. Read along as the struggling college writer ingests psychedelic mushrooms, and documents his fantastic drug induced trip. So how is it I find myself on my couch 6 hours later in the dark, throat like the Sahara and a coworker sound asleep behind me? My brilliant personal essay practically wrote itself, that's how! There is a good chance no Hollywood producer is going to be knocking on my front door in the morning, but those pompous, simplistic minded, fools hire and pay writers millions of dollars to come up with what cost me only fifty bucks, some sore abs, and a good night's sleep. You see, I am no Raoul Duke, I know no Oscar Z. Acosta and I didn't drink Martini's with some overwhelmingly intimidating Lizards but I had a hell of a time and I wished you'd have been here to live it with me.
As the clock on my wall reaches 8:00, I prepare myself for the stupidity. The taste of mushrooms is in a word, horrendous. This is not an issue open for debate, this is case closed fact. They shouldn't be eaten on pizza, they shouldn't be eaten in soup, and whomever the first person was that found them self in a dark shit patch sure must have been hungry. What is to be experienced tonight can technically be described as an "acute food-borne gastrointestinal infection caused by food contaminated by harmful bacteria". It's poison. It's Fungi. It's Mold. It's Fantastic. Knowing full well that it is too late to undo what has been done I sit comfortably on my couch and wait. I will not be kickboxing tonight, I will not be meeting with my parents, I certainly won't be writing a "good essay". Along for the ride is my trusty companion Tsugumo in London, and a few select phone a friends, some of which are in on the ruse, most however, are not. For sakes of comedy, the final psilocybins are tucked neatly under a piece of cheese, left of the pepperoni, slightly right of the ham. Off to a fantastic start, a feeling of guilt, an upset stomach and most importantly a missing pen. You see the pen isn't just a pen at all. The pen is crucial, the pen is vital, without the pen to document; I am just a shitty college student getting fucked up instead of doing his homework. This essay should be about the pen itself really. Hold, pause, and think. How dare I put the pen's importance in front of my own! I am; after all, the college student giving himself food poisoning in an attempt to attain a degree in secondary education. However, as a final aside in the pen's defense it did have the ability to escape the clutches of being tied to an arm, not bad for an eight inch inanimate object. Rest In Peace my white paper mate, it was no Vimy Ridge, but you fought bravely in our eyes.
The effects take time but come with a brilliantly hilarious vengeance. Feelings of joy and excitement race through my mind and body like a young boy anticipating Christmas morning. Christmas morning brings bicycles, train sets, and snow. My anticipation brings hungry frogs, maniacal laughter and UFO's. Forget the 25th of December; I want February 28th at least three times a year. A numbing of the face? AFFIRMITIVE! A computer monitor that is now sentient and breathing? AFFIRMITIVE! Wait is that drool on my chin? Confirming... Confirming... AFFIRMITIVE! Alas, my wonderfully bitter capped friends have taken a hold.
As my cell phone buzzes innocently across a dirty, wooden table, the ring tone screams "Michelle", a coworker, probably one of a very few people I can trust with my secrets. Mood is Happy. The Caller Identification says "Mom and Dad" probably the two people from whom I would most desperately hide any secrets. Mood is Paranoid. Wait-- wasn't that Michelle's ring tone? Mood is confused paranoia. The voice on the other end of the line is my sister. She's sick with the flu and her voice sounds like those martini drinking lizards I mentioned in the introduction. Mood is absolutely irrelevant at this point. Why are you at mom and dad's house, how did you steal Michelle's ring tone and seriously, can the Oilers possibly sign Ryan Smyth come July? I can't be in this position right now. Dealing with an ill older sister over the phone is not something entirely congruent with writing a meaningful English composition. The phone conversation is hindering my ability to document! The fungus wants me to see, hear, and experience so much and I am unable to write any of it down. How could I be so careless? I must regain my focus; this is a school project after all. A situation such as this can only be remedied with standard male conversation evasion, a technique that dates back to our Neanderthal ancestors. 3 statements, 2 clever retorts, a half dozen reassurances, and some pseudo concern and the conversation is over. The Geico caveman would be proud. The sleek pocket sized phone gracefully slides closed and the documentation and recording can be reestablished, or so I think. The split second that is the eye of the shit patch storm provides no time to regain any sense of homeostasis, for the moment the cell phone touches the table, it lights up brilliant reds and radiant greens shouting trucker lingo in the voice of Stewie Griffin.
The caller identification stays the course with "Mom and Dad" but this time the voice on the other end of the line is dad. This is not a raspy voiced sister, not a fun and sympathetic friend, this is a two hundred pound piece of father muscle who has the power to take my life as easily as he gave it to me. The pressure is too much to bare. The conversation that takes place is of no importance, what is important are the antics during the conversation. Confusion, small talk, laughter, and a dropped phone are what make up my two minute heart-to-heart with my father. Baby make daddy proud, I think that went well.
At this point I shut the effects out of my mind. With great focus and concentration I am able to sit back comfortably and take down everything that has happened so far. With only momentary lapses due to slight deja vu I can sit sipping my coca cola watching music videos in an almost perfectly sober state. The cold cola feels good as it slides down my throat and tickles my esophagus with its carbonation. After working in a bar for the past five years, I've forgotten how damn good this tastes without whiskey mixed in with it. The calm lasts roughly fifteen minutes until there is a knock on my door. Who could it be? It's 12:00 o'clock at night, why are you here? Who shows up to disturb my nearly completed work of art? A coworker with a smile, who brings over a Kaleidoscope, that's who! Once joined by my now company, my journey engages in one last ditch effort of entertainment. Her name is Gwenyth, I call her dumb-dumb, she sits on my couch drinking Spiced Rum. Laughs and snickers and what I have done, she wishes she'd been here, for all the great fun. She hands me my present, a toy for my eye, I peer through it amused, a Jalapeno I spy! Thank you for coming, for the end of this ride, I write this essay, as you sit idly by.
I've been sitting in front of my laptop for about the last six hours going about completing this personal essay. Gwenyth lays silently sleeping behind me, The Phantom Of The Opera provides ambience. I'm tired, hungry, and have an incredible grin stretched across my face. I can't say that I am smiling entirely because of the account I have just told you, but I take great pleasure in the irony that had I been sitting in front of the computer in the dark typing on Microsoft Messenger I would be a nerd; however, by tying a notepad to my arm, swallowing some hallucinogens, and writing down my feelings I'm a non-fiction writer. Thank you Gwen, and Tsugumo, I'll call you if I need a re-write.
User Reviews
Submitted by sicosemen (user info) at 2007-03-22 15:29:39 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by Striperella (user info) at 2007-03-12 16:41:18 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Has it been graded yet?
Submitted by SPECIALk (user info) at 2007-03-04 21:25:52 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
you so crazy.
Submitted by TheUniter (user info) at 2007-03-02 14:51:11 EST (#)
Ranking: 1
Submitted by GnarlsBarkley (user info) at 2007-03-02 14:03:47 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
+2 because you're awsome, and I witnessed this. hahahaha.... Pyramid text, yah goofball. "Oh, good thing my computer was on it's side"
Submitted by wookie (user info) at 2007-03-02 13:56:08 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by JonnyX (user info) at 2007-03-02 13:43:55 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
As your attorney, I advise you to drink heavily.
Submitted by WookieSuave (user info) at 2007-03-02 12:26:15 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
Thanks everyone for the reviews. This piece was fucked up to write and I'm glad you enjoy it.
Submitted by BLITZKREIG_BOB (user info) at 2007-03-02 09:22:33 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
This rocks. It would've gotten a lot more attention with a longer, more descriptive title.
Submitted by rad1101 (user info) at 2007-03-02 05:13:11 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by whiskey_jack (user info) at 2007-03-02 03:50:48 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
auto +2 for mentioning Ryan Smyth
Submitted by Jack_McCallum (user info) at 2007-03-01 23:45:55 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Baby earthquake! +2s all around!
Submitted by Flack (user info) at 2007-03-01 23:06:22 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
awesome
Submitted by Progr3ss (user info) at 2007-03-01 22:32:41 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
cool
Submitted by Adamdidit2u (user info) at 2007-03-01 22:28:45 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
I really liked this
Submitted by Snare (user info) at 2007-03-01 22:09:46 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
I've read worse trippin' yarns.
Submitted by lungfish (user info) at 2007-03-01 21:35:49 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Too good for a Thursday.
Submitted by thorpe (user info) at 2007-03-01 21:03:14 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Next time you've got to do it outside.