Trails faded into spotty thin lines but pink was her favorite color and the aura of white that wrapped itself around each measly blip just before that final bop was giving her a feeling of relief so.... she was thinking she was pretty much gonna be ok.
She sat in the house...and by 'house' we mean the place where civilians...and by 'civilians' we mean you...sit...to watch the show...now that you're clear we can go on.
She sat there with her wig on ...but the wig master...that’s the really happy boy they pay to fit the wigs on the actors before the show, never even noticed that her wig wasn't on straight or maybe he couldn't see straight, we'll give him that because the house was, in fact, dark and by 'dark' we mean the lights were on low...down...dim...like your brain...clock in soon okay…
Well...rehearsals look better but don't necessarily go better on acid.... she thought she could follow along but the little streamers in the Mylar curtain were beginning to look... well.... redundant and the dancers were still bad which surprised her. She was hoping they might get better if her brain was on drugs....no.
Her man's experience, however, seemed to be going in a somewhat, and we really cannot shit you here…more typical hallucinogenic like direction and she was, quite frankly, not the least bit uncomfortable about the fact that he was leading the music rehearsal standing a top a tiny piano stool wearing several hats with his long baton drawing ice cream castles in the air…which, if you're a little baby person, refers to a certain song written and sung way too many times by the great Joni Mitchell and you should fucking know it so look it up.
The cast was taking his flying ass seriously because he was, well, the director…and she was jealous and no…she wasn't jealous because he was holding court…she didn't give a fuck about that, she was quipped because he was as high as a mountain goat and she couldn't peep out anything more than a little colorful blurt on the fucking Mylar curtain...which she could have done without putting a tab of acid under her tongue...fuckin’ genius man had everything…tripping brains...music...and now he had found the fucking fourth dimension …the one they never mention…listening to the voice inside …that voice…you know…the voice... inside…the mother fucking voice...never mind…you're never gonna understand…we couldn’t fucking explain it if we tried. 🌹
kkeats - TalesfromtheNaughtyChair
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