Words, Words, WordsMature

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.

Julie blinks. 

"There's a stone in my shoe." I say.

"I know." says someone.

"There's not." says someone else.


"Words Words Words"

Julie blinks.

"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'm stoned. 

I fall over. 

The End

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