Sitting in the pitch-black bedroom, only 17 years old. The two friends were transfixed, frying their eyes out. They had each dropped two hits of very strong acid.
Completely covering the floor laid out in a checkerboard pattern, were Eric’s LPs. Sitting on the couch, Adam had a strobe light propped on his knee. And periodically would turn it on creating a blast of light that made the neon colored posters on Eric’s wall POP three feet off the wall, only to sofly float back towards the wall into clomplete darkness.
Suddenly the door swung open! It was Eric’s mother. “Now Eric, be carefull not to step on these albums on the floor.”
“Yes ma’am.”
She quietly closed the door…followed by uncontrolable laughing.
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