Gonzo Gainesville

It was some time in the early evening when the Pillsbury Doughboy fed the five of us magic mushrooms. He sprinkled edible confetti in his creamy chocolate frosting, and made the fungi taste somewhat delightful. After a cloudy 20-minutes and four glasses of purified water they asked us to join them—John, Paul, George and Ringo—in the patio and hop aboard the yellow submarine.

“Those Brits put on one hell of light show and really get deep into your mind, right?”
“Yea, man. San Francisco is really cool.”
“What?”
“I understand totally. But why?”
“Seriously.”
“I’m lost.”
“Me too!”

When Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Heart Club Band wrapped their set, we drifted towards the soundstage. The forest scene was dimly lit and three of the five actors smoked cigarettes and chatted near the coffee maker. I saw myself as one of these actors and captured the entire conversation with a mental movie camera.

“This role is boring. I want to play a professor.”
“How come?”
“Yea”
“Yea what?
“You puked?”
“Yea, man.”
“We’re saying ‘yea’ a lot.”
“Me too!”
“I know.”

The documentary was long and only made sense in the moment. Other actors would walk in and out of the conversation and look confused—they giggled for hours, especially the girls.

“I can’t stop laughing.”
“Me too!”
“Like, seriously, if I start talking now, I’ll talk forever.”
“Me too!”

I must say that the forest set was quite remarkable. Luckily for us, the main tree caressed our patio in its furry arms. He swayed us back and forth and gave us a guided tour of the lot. At any moment, the ride could have collapsed, killing us instantly upon impact with the bottom of the pre-historic volcanic island. Dinosaurs, evil squirrels and even bats would have feasted on our decomposing corpses and only sobriety could save us. We must go inside—much safer with animation.

“Let’s see what’s going on inside.”
“Yea, I think I want to go inside for a while.”
“Me too!”

I remember the Rugrat’s house being much less colorful. Maybe Top Gun’s Aviators will balance the color. Yes, much better. The green becomes muted and the purple looks red.

“This is insane. When did we get into the cartoon?”
“I know what you mean.”
“Me too!”
“You haven’t stopped saying ‘me too’ since we ate the mushrooms.”
“Guys, I’m sorry if I’m being bossy.”

A football team from the Midwest kicked a field goal directly through our big screen. It won the game for them, but apparently the faces behind the curtains were rooting for the other team. They looked upset.

“Those faces, over there…it might be Julius Caser, but I don’t know.”
“They look pissed.”
“Maybe we should see what’s going on outside.”
“I can’t move right now.”
“Me too!”
“I’m going alone.”

A broom sat in the corner of the operating room and was the only weapon I could find. The front door was miles away from the O.R. but we managed to come off our cloud-like sofa bed.

“I thought you guys were staying”
“Me too!”
“Why are you holding a broom?”
“Because we need it.”
“Look, over there, go there.”
“This is what we’re supposed to be doing.”

We beat the wild boar with the broom-sword and were back in time for the Blind Melon concert. Beethoven opened for them. That was a tough act to follow.

“This song is fun.”
“Yea, three is the magic number.”
“No Rain? That’s not what it said in the paper.”
“I wouldn’t care if it rains.”
“Me too!”

The blood is rushing to my brain as I walk on the roof. The Vietnamese Airplane’s propeller almost cut my bare foot. That damn Charlie is always sneaking around our house.

“Did you see that? Hello? Is anyone there? Holy shit.”

I escaped the prison camp, but barely. Luckily, Jared Roth was there with his guitar. The strings looked odd, and his fingers were bleeding, but it sounded great.

“Seriously, you’re killing me over there.”
“Sorry, it just sounds so great.”
“I thought it sounded cool.”
“Me too!”

None of it made sense and everyone was in a daze. Some vomited and others slept. I did the latter—slept right through the slumber party. When I awoke, early the next morning, the submarine was gone, the boar was dead and the movie set no longer sat behind the house. Reality sucks.

Cheers,
Victor