My wife’s birthday
“Back in my day, we meditated when we were stoned, and we were stoned every day. Have you ever pictured a strawberry being inserted into the top of your head while you’re wearing those Kanye sunglasses? You know those glasses? The fence-looking white ones? I think that’s enlightenment. We can’t have Thanksgiving dinner here.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I don’t know, Diane! Can’t you see that? I just ate a bunch of mushrooms.”
“Where did you get the mushrooms?”
“You know where I got the mushrooms. Don’t ask me where I got them.”
“Did you join that church?”
“I don’t have to live like this; answering to the matriarch! My own wife! What kind of man do you think I am?”
“You got them from the church, didn’t you?”
“Yes, babe, I got them from the church.”
“It’s not even a church, John.”
“You’re calling it a church.”
“What’s it called?”
“The church of entheogenic plants. It’s the only way that I could get them. Don’t do this, not while I’m tripping.”
“Are you tripping right now?”
“Yes! What the fuck. Did you hear me talking about meditating?”
“Did you meditate? Wait, why would you take mushrooms on my birthday?”
“Because we don’t have the kids.”
“We haven’t had the kids before, and you didn’t take hallucinogens.”
“Babe, it’s just shrooms. Don’t do this.”
“Are you seeing colors right now? Are there like three of me?”
“Stop, babe, Jesus Christ, I need to sit down.”
“What were you thinking you were going to do tonight?”
“What do you mean?”
“Like, what were you going to try to do when you were high? Were you going to try to do something to me?”
“What? Babe, what the fuck. It’s a plant, and it’s all-natural. It’s probably organic. You love eating mushrooms! We had that toast the other night.”
“How much did you take?”
“A lot.”
“Are you seeing colors?”
“You should take some for solidarity.”
“No, I’m not taking mushrooms.”
“Why? It’s your birthday.”
“Yea and I don’t want to give myself an anxiety attack.”
“It won’t be like that. You can microdose them. Babe, you should do it.”
“What’s microdose?”
*1hr later*
“John, why am I lying on the floor right now?”
“Babe, you lied on the floor?”
“Yea, but why am I on the floor?”
“Why is that gladiator head on the console table winking at me? Have you ever realized that? I don’t know why things happen.”
“Gladiator head?”
“Yea, the stone head.”
“That’s a Grecian Bust Pot.”
“Call it what you want; it’s a creepy stone head.”
“You don’t like my style?”
“Babe, it has nothing to do with your style. The head is winking at me. Right there! Do you see it?”
“I don’t know if I can get up off the floor right now.”
“What are you talking about? Just get up.”
“Babe, I can’t move my arm.”
“You can’t move your arm? That’s not good.”
“Babe, help.”
“Are you being serious right now? Do you see this fucking head winking at me?”
“The heads not winking at you! Help me up off this floor.”
“I know it’s not winking at me, but it feels like it’s winking at me.”
“Please help me up off the floor.”
*5 minutes later*
“Do you really not like my style?”
“What?”
“You said you didn’t like my style.”
“I’m so high right now.”
“I don’t even feel it.”
“You were just lying on the floor!”
“I don’t even feel it right now.”
“Eat more.”
“If I eat more, then is it still a microdose?”
“Yes. You said you don’t feel it. It’s not a nothing dose; it’s a microdose. You should take more.”
*15 minutes later*
“I think I’m starting to feel it.”
“You just ate more. It wouldn’t hit you that quick.”
“No, I think I’m feeling it. Does my topiary look like it’s growing to you?”
“Woah, it does look like it’s growing.”
“Right? You’re not fucking with me, right? Am I right? Look at that!”
“Dude, this is crazy.”
“Babe, are you seeing this right now?”
“Shit, babe, you shouldn’t have eaten more.”
“You don’t think? But you told me I should.”
“Babe, you were the one who said you wanted more.”
“What’s going to happen?”
“You’re going to be fine.”
“This reminds me of going to the drive-in movie theater.”
“What are you talking about? We’re in our living room and the TVs off.”
“Yea, but the vibe.”
“What did you do at the drive-in movie theater?”
“Actually, I don’t know if I’ve ever been to a drive-in movie theater. I don’t think I have.”
“Babe, what the fuck.”
“Stop laughing at me.”
“I’m so stoned. Are you stoned?”
“Yes, babe. All I want is my pajamas and the electric blanket.”
“You would want the electric blanket!”
“I’m so cold.”
“It’s not even that cold in here.”
“It’s freezing.”
“Put on more clothes.”
“Turn on the fireplace.”
“You turn on the fireplace.”
“Babe, please, I’m freezing.”
“I’m not getting off the couch. The floor looks like lava to me right now.”
“Are you serious?”
“I know it’s just the floor.”
“So, you’ll turn on the fireplace?”
“I’m not getting off the couch.”
“Babe, you made me take shrooms!”
“Look at us, aren’t we having fun?”
“This is fun?”
“It’s your birthday.”
“Yea and I’m sitting at home tripping in my living room.”
“Exactly.”
“Looking at Alex’s toys.”
“What?”
“In the corner. Do you remember when we got him that?”
“No, no, come on. Don’t talk about the kids.”
“Don’t you miss them?”
“Eh. I get enough of them, you know?”
“Babe!”
“It’s nice to have a night off. I don’t want to think about them.”
“Would you rather go to space or to the moon?”
“Jeff Bezos fucking wants us to live in space.”
“Babe, a sperm whale is fighting a giant squid right now.”
“What?”
“Like now in the bottom of the ocean, it’s probably happening.”
“Wow.”
“Don’t laugh at me!”
“Babe, we’re high right now.”
“Can you believe I’m thirty-nine?”
“You’re amazing!”
*1 hour later*
“I don’t like any of this. Why are we in the garage right now?”
“Babe, will you calm down? It’s just our garage.”
“Why are we in here? It’s so cold.”
“I want to show you that they’re in here.”
“I believe you that they’re in here.”
“No, you don’t believe me because if you believed me, you would have said, ‘Oh yea, John, you’re right. There in the garage.’ But you didn’t say that.”
“I’m going inside.”
“Here they are. Look, right here.”
“I see them.”
“Ha! You see? I knew we had snow pants.”
“I bet those won’t even fit me. I haven’t worn them in like three years.”
“Babe, they’ll fit you. You look great.”
“So let’s rent a house in Tahoe then.”
“Oh, I don’t know about all that. But I’m saying if we did go, at least we wouldn’t need to buy pants.”
*20 minutes later*
“I’m too stoned for this. I can’t.”
“Babe, you love candles.”
“You’re going to light every candle in the house?”
“Let’s live by candlelight tonight.”
“Why?”
“Because we can.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Doesn’t it feel right?”
“No, not really, We should turn a light on.”
“You love candles!”
“Yea, but not when it’s pitch black in the house. This is scary.”
“How is this scary?”
“It’s pitch black, and I’m surrounded by candles; it feels like a seance.”
“You really want me to turn the lights back on?”
“Yes.”
“Let’s just… Look, can we just sit here being quiet for just one second in silence?”
“Ok.”
“Just one second, in silence, to take it in.”
*2 minutes later*
“John, I’m completely zoning out right now.”
“Why?”
“Don’t laugh at me. I feel like there’s a seal in the front room that’s going to slide in here on its belly to greet us.”
“What the fuck.”
“Can you feel it?”
“I’m seeing stuff.”
“What do you see?”
“Stormtroopers.”
“What?”
“From Star Wars.”
“You watched that?”
“It’s a classic.”
“I didn’t know you were interested in nerd stuff.”
“Babe, what?”
“What? It’s nerd stuff.”
“Babe, those spaceships were dope.”
“Do you think Max is going to get accepted?”
“Jesus Christ, Babe, don’t bring up the kids.”
“Why can’t we talk about them?”
“I’m high as shit! I don’t want to talk about real things.”
“Ok, fine.”
“It is dark in here.”
“Do we have any coconut milk?”
“I think so. Do you really think I’m a nerd?”
“I’m going to make a coconut steamer.”
“You love those things.”
“Do you want one?”
“No, no.”
“Are you sure?”
“Will you put vanilla and cinnamon in it?”
“I can.”
“Ok, I’ll have one.”
“Can we turn the lights back on?”
“Yea, go ahead. I’ll blow out the candles.”
“Ok. Hey! Don’t blow them out like that.”
“Why?”
“Because! Look! Now the smoke is coming directly at us.”
“We’re inside. It was always going to come to us.”
“Yea, but if you didn’t put them out like that, it wouldn’t be—”
“Ok, it’s going to be fine.”
*2 hours later*
“This isn’t even fun anymore. I just want to go to bed.”
“Then just close your eyes, and we won’t talk, and we’ll just go to bed.”
“I can’t close my eyes! My eyes won’t close.”
“Babe, you can close your eyes.”
“I’m wide awake.”
“I don’t know what to tell you.”
“How are you so tired?”
“I can be tired. I’m tired. I’m a parent too.”
“I know you are.”
“Can we try to go to bed?”
“I won’t be able to.”
“Yea, but then we can just lie here and just kind of trip out.”
“Is that what you want?”
“To trip out? Isn’t that why we took the shrooms?”
“How do you feel?”
“I feel good, babe. Happy birthday. I’m sorry you didn’t like it.”
“No, I did. I do. It’s just I feel, like, really awake.”
“You got to stop fighting it.”
“I’m not fighting it.”
“You just have to be quiet and go with it. I once had an acid come down that lasted like six hours, and during parts of it, I was dry shaving and doing push-ups, naked.”
“What?”
“Yea, this is nothing. You’re going to be fine, babe.”
“Ok.”
“I love you, babe.”
“Love you.”
“Did you have a good birthday?”
“Yea.”
“That’s good, babe. That’s good. Oh, babe!”
“What?”
“The electric blanket!”
*4 hours later*
“Babe, did you hear that?”
“What?”
“Did you hear that?”
“No.”
“Did you put on the alarm?”
“I don’t know.”
“Babe, you didn’t hear that noise?”
“No, you’re tripping.”
“Just there. Did you hear that?”
“Shh.”
“Babe, someone’s breaking into the house.”
“Shut up!”
“Babe, someone’s trying to come into the house.”
“Holy shit, is this happening right now?”
“Where are you going? Are you going down there?”
“I’m fucking going down there.”
“Babe! I’m scared.”
“Just stay here, lock the door.”
“Should I call the cops?”
“Call the fucking cops!”
“Babe!”
“Hey! Hey! You better get the fuck out of my house! You mother-fucker! I’m going to fucking kill you. Hey! Get the fuck out of my house, you piece of shit! Yea, you mother-fucker. I’m right here! You want to fucking go? You want to fuck with my family? Let’s go mother-fucker! Yea, get the fuck out of here! Get out of here! Mother-fucker! Don’t come back!”
“Babe, are they leaving? Babe! Did they leave?”
“He’s fucking gone! That fucking pussy! Did you see that?”
“Oh my god. Babe!”
“Holy shit!”
*6 hours later*
“Diane, are you up?”
“Uh.”
“Babe. You got to get up.”
“What time is it?”
“Are you still high?”
“I don’t know. I just woke up.”
“We got to pick up the kids.”
“Right now?”
“Soon.”
“I think I’m still high.”
“Babe!”
“Don’t laugh at me; it’s not funny.”
“You’re not high.”
“Can you have a shroom hangover?”
“You’ll be fine.”
“Are you still high?”
“It’s going to be fine. Babe, think about it; all we did last night was stay at home, you know? We didn’t do anything.”
“Someone broke into our house.”
“Oh, yea. Holy shit, I forgot about that. Last night was crazy.”
“Should we tell the kids?”
“Absolutely not.”
“Right?”
“Yea. No. They’d be terrified. We’d have to move.”
“Last night was crazy.”
“I protected our domain.”
“You did so good, babe.”
“If that hadn’t happened, it would have been a pretty chill night.”
“Kind of.”
“We were tripping, huh?”
“Yea, I was super high.”
“On your birthday.”
“Yea.”
“Was it a good birthday?”
“I don’t know.”
“Babe! You didn’t like it?”
“I liked parts of it. I remember being really cold.”
“Yea.”
“And someone breaking into our house. That was crazy.”
“You had a really eventful birthday.”
“Yea, it was.”