Quarantine Diaries Vol II:

I Dream of Popsicle Sticks

Me and my boyfriend, Matt, attend a party on a university campus. It was an awesome party, buzzing with music, laughter and exuberant neon lights. Late into the night, after spending hours killing it on the dancefloor, Matt takes me to the side and hands me a red-tipped popsicle stick. I put the red-tipped end in my mouth and gently begin sucking on it, thinking the color was some kind of syrup or sugar coating. But sweetness never came. There was no flavor. I thought it was because I wasn’t sucking hard enough, so I tightened my jaw and aggressively flexed the back of my tongue in an effort to wring out the invisible taste from the popsicle. Seconds later, something changed. It was like my conscience was being lifted from my head, placed on a bed of clouds and rocked back and forth like an infant in a rocking chair. The rest of me was filled with hot air. Everything around me folded and curved into waves. I took the popsicle out of my mouth. As it turns out, the red color was a drug

So there I am high as a kite and not knowing what the hell to do. Then all of a sudden, my doped up brain convinces me that I’m playing a ridiculous game-with makeshift scissor gloves on my hands, I’m to find and collect as many eggs as possible. Doped-out me consents to the game, so I along with a random stranger- who’d gotten hold of a purple popsicle and was equally as high as I was- run around inside a swanky nearby hotel. We break into people’s suites, trash their room and steal whatever eggs we could find. We do the same thing to the kitchen on the main floor. Of course, we are tripping so badly that we wind up breaking over half of the eggs we gather.

Matt and a group of sober partygoers notice how out of control we’ve gotten and chase after us. The stranger and I run as fast as we can away from them. We wind up getting separated. I run into a giant silvery plaza that’s flooded with people. I manage to snake through the horde and reach the opposite end of the plaza. I run into a theater and attempt to sneak into a movie, but unsurprisingly, I get caught and thrown back out onto the curb. I leave the Plaza and keep running until I reach what I can only describe as contemporary palaces- an endless stretch of polished, pristine white two-story mansions located in a more rural area. Along the way, I discover the drugs I’ve ingested have somehow given me telekinetic powers. I use them to stop, swipe away and dramatically flip vehicles as I rush through heavy traffic on a main road.

A few miles later the high begins to dissipate. My legs start to buckle, and every muscle feels like it’s been replaced with jelly. Exhausted, I pass out on someone’s lawn. I wake up the next morning in a nice worm bed with Matt by my side. Every inch of me is aching. My hands are slimy and reek of bad eggs. When Matt wakes up, we both get up and go downstairs (the place we’re in is a sort of log cabin, I think). Matt’s older brother meets us at the dining table. As he sits and eats his breakfast, he asks me if I remember anything from the night before.

“No,” I said. But of course, that’s a lie.

 

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