Back in the apartment from their Taco Bell run, the group booted up Mario Kart to pass the time until their state change. The first sign that their tablets were working came to Flora when she went to the bathroom. She returned and told the three others that the bathrooms tiles were moving. Sure enough, Ken and the others hustled to the bathroom and the floor became a kaleidoscope of square tiles. They all took turns getting on the ground (much like a golfer would bend down to line up a putt) and watching the floor dance.
Once back in the common room, the dam broke. Ken sat on the floor, eventually succumbing to a reclining position. He felt the carpet on his skin like he never had before. It was no longer a four-males-worth-of-dirt carpet, but rather it was a field of cotton, gently rubbing over his arms and legs. At this point, Ken had no awareness of the others.
Finally, as Ken came out of his carpet field tunnel vision, his friend Neo was sprawled on the couch. Apparently, he had been eating chips, because now he was complaining about crumbs and brushing them off—except he continued to brush off non-existent chip crumbs for at least a couple minutes.
Brandon turned on the TV and searched the internet for cool visuals. Ken watched as the colors melded into each other, creating ever-changing illusions. Brandon turned to the group.
“Wow, we really are doing all the cliches,” he said.
“They’re cliches for a reason,” Ken replied from the floor. “Don’t worry about how we look,”—because surely it was ridiculous—”but rather, let’s just enjoy it. No matter how cliched it becomes.”
That was enough for Brandon, and the four continued on their path down Hallucination Lane.
In college, Ken was a bit of an OKCupid aficionado. His current interest was an elementary school teacher. That night, Ken texted her. Or rather, he tried. Over the next few hours, Ken would get a letter or two down before losing focus and getting sucked into a mumble fest with his roommates.
Again, from the outside, their conversations would not have many any sense. Even while under the influence Ken knew they were speaking gibberish, but he felt an understanding. Even with Brandon speaking like Doodlebob, the message was easily conveyed. There were certainly lots of giggles, but conversation was magical in the way that words didn’t need to be said.
Moving from visuals on the TV to music, the group chose songs they wanted to experience in a new light. Unfortunately, for Ken, Brandon put on Trippy Green Skull. The beginning of the song was pretty terrible for Ken (who still remained on the floor, head under the TV). The song began with electronic noises, and Ken was already uncomfortable, but when it reached about thirty seconds in, Ken insisted very strongly that Brandon turn it off. From thirty seconds in until about fifty seconds (when it got even worse) and beyond, Ken felt the pressure of the songs pushing him into the floor. It wasn’t a hand pushing him or a gust of wind. No, the song transported Ken to a world where he was essentially pin art. The giant human sized pins pushed him down into the floor to the beat of the song. At around fifty seconds, Brandon shut it off.
“Is something wrong?”
Ken took a few deep breaths, muttering a few words to himself. Needless to say, they moved on to another activity.