I take drugs.
There's a stone in my shoe.
Stop the presses, drop everything, get Mahatma Gandhi on the phone because there's a stone in my shoe.
"There's a stone in my shoe." I announce.
Everyone stops what they're doing. We're in the process of running from the Night Terrors across a dark playing field at 3AM.
We're tripping balls.
"Another one?" Pete asks
"There's not a stone in your shoe." Hannah tells me.
"Another one?" Pete asks.
"Stoned, heh." David points at my foot, cackling hellishly.
"There's a stone in my shoe." I say.
"I know." says someone.
"There's not." says someone else.
"Words Words Words"
"Words" Was that me? Maybe I spoke.
There's still a stone in my shoe. I let out a moan.
No matter how many times I empty my shoes, it's still there.
Maybe the stone is life.
Maybe we're the stone.
I'm the stone.
I fall over.