For the lack of better terms...

My reality was strangely visible to me at one point of the light psychedelic journey I was on, and I could allow the trip to come on stronger or go away enough that I could address people in public and not get arrested for freaking out about the walls breathing, the windows vibrating, or the pregnant oompa loompa in front of me at the gas station when I was buying yet another beer to quench my thirst. The trip started to gt the best of me at one point as I was pondering how it was physically possible that the oompa loompa in front of me had gotten pregnant by the creepy looking redneck with the bloodshot eyes.
"Didn't she used to be a stripper?" A voice from in front of me asks.
I couldn't control the trip, but as long as I didn't let it control me I knew I'd be fine. "Yes. Maybe. No? I think. Wouldn't the stripper pole be a health hazard for her? The girl's four and a half feet tall. If she fell from the pole..." The woman behind the counter is staring at me like I forgot to wipe the hastily drawn penises from my forehead that had shown up after going out to a party near the college where I must have blacked out or fallen asleep. Why is she staring at me? Do I have a drawn on penis on my face somewhere?
And if I do, did they at least have the common courtesy to draw it, and not trace their own?
My face started to itch in the spots that I could swear there was a wang traced by some drunken college idiot.

"Here you go." I say as I hand her my dollar twenty seven  and turn towards the door to keep myself from freaking out like someone with agoraphobia that's just been dropped into the middle of a concert stadium that's full of people.
"You alright man?" She asks me.
"Yeah I just need a smoke... I'm fiending and it makes me act weird."
She smirks and tells me that I act weird anyways, and I tell her to shut up.
This smoke tastes like mint. And ammonia. Minty Ammonia is an interesting flavor for cigs. Not sure if I like that or not.

TO BE CONTINUED...