men gathered in a circle. Julio stood in
the middle and held the floor. “We will go into this magic kingdom, we
will journey and pay it its respect. We will listen to its heartbeat.
We will hold onto its wings as it grabs us up. You will experience it the way the young
warriors of this region experience it. We will make it our own. This is your initiation to this world.
Bienvenidos!” They passed around a baggie that looked like dried
fruit, smelled like onions and tasted like shit. The men were laughing
and telling jokes and the women stood nearby, holding the children by the hand.
Some of the children began to wave to Geraldo, as if he were leaving to
go somewhere else. Reluctantly he waved back as he took a piece out of
the baggy, unsure of what it was, and began to chew on it. He was hungry.
After swallowing he needed water, but that thirst would stay with him for the
next twelve hours. He ate a few more and then passed it to his cousin
Federico, who was one of the top barbers in Mexico City but had to leave town
quickly after an affair with a politician’s wife went bad. Geraldo had gotten
his haircut from Federico a long time ago when he was a kid before his sister’s
quincenera. Geraldo’s mom had yelled at Geraldo’s dad for letting
Federico make Geraldo look like a Cuban pimp. Still, Geraldo’s hair
looked great. As Federico took the baggy from Geraldo, Geraldo couldn’t
help but notice Federico’s hair still looked perfect. It was a marvel.
His face had aged but his ‘doo was still impeccable. Geraldo was
excited. To be in America, to be with his family, to be at the El
Monumento de la Anaheim…
The dried Psilocybin Mushrooms Julio had
treated with several of his own herbs and spices began taking effect rather
severely forty-three minutes later as Geraldo was ratcheting up the Matterhorn.
He felt a rumbling beneath him which was the
roller coaster, attached to a chain grinding its way up the first hill.
He began to see through the bottom of the car to the world below.
He was floating upon it now. He looked to his right and saw the
mountain turn cavernous and distinct. It began to pulsate. Rhythmically, with a
sense of being alive. Clouds formed above and a world of ice
unfolded before him as he climbed higher. The clack of the chain holding
the car on the track seemed to dissipate and turn into bird squawks. Unfamiliar
birds. A mountain of ice stood before him.
Glacier-like textures he’d never seen before. Cold,
shivering, frigid and screaming.
Harrowing darkness. Clouds came out of
nowhere, turning a sunny day into a darkened ghostland, as red sparks shot out
from the horizon and an orange-reddish hue covered the
sky. Lightning and thunder crashed around him. The mountain
started to twitch and perforate like a giant, rubbery egg about to be broken.
It was expanding, stretching, and vibrating until finally two black horns
emerged from the top in an eruption of molten lava, rock, dust and fire.
Two huge arms reached out and blasted their way from the sides with hands
twenty feet across, black, jointed, webbed, and glistening with sweat. A
head with giant bat ears and a huge, flaring nose appeared over the crater as
fire and stone showered around it and down onto Geraldo. A
barreling, hairy chest extended and gave prominence. The head had a
mouse-like shape but it only seemed to be cloaking what could only be perceived
as a far more malevolent inside. It sat atop a blown-apart peak.
This was El Ratone . Geraldo sat speechless, unable to
even move.
Lightning, rain, and fire showered down around
him as El Ratone let out a scream that made Geraldo’s ears feel like
they were bleeding. Its pointy ears, jagged and bloody, arms and hands
long and deadly, swooping around, breathing in fire spewing out
deadly carbon monoxide. He swung forth a huge, mountainous,
semi-aroused rat cock and balls, swaying back
the middle and held the floor. “We will go into this magic kingdom, we
will journey and pay it its respect. We will listen to its heartbeat.
We will hold onto its wings as it grabs us up. You will experience it the way the young
warriors of this region experience it. We will make it our own. This is your initiation to this world.
Bienvenidos!” They passed around a baggie that looked like dried
fruit, smelled like onions and tasted like shit. The men were laughing
and telling jokes and the women stood nearby, holding the children by the hand.
Some of the children began to wave to Geraldo, as if he were leaving to
go somewhere else. Reluctantly he waved back as he took a piece out of
the baggy, unsure of what it was, and began to chew on it. He was hungry.
After swallowing he needed water, but that thirst would stay with him for the
next twelve hours. He ate a few more and then passed it to his cousin
Federico, who was one of the top barbers in Mexico City but had to leave town
quickly after an affair with a politician’s wife went bad. Geraldo had gotten
his haircut from Federico a long time ago when he was a kid before his sister’s
quincenera. Geraldo’s mom had yelled at Geraldo’s dad for letting
Federico make Geraldo look like a Cuban pimp. Still, Geraldo’s hair
looked great. As Federico took the baggy from Geraldo, Geraldo couldn’t
help but notice Federico’s hair still looked perfect. It was a marvel.
His face had aged but his ‘doo was still impeccable. Geraldo was
excited. To be in America, to be with his family, to be at the El
Monumento de la Anaheim…
The dried Psilocybin Mushrooms Julio had
treated with several of his own herbs and spices began taking effect rather
severely forty-three minutes later as Geraldo was ratcheting up the Matterhorn.
He felt a rumbling beneath him which was the
roller coaster, attached to a chain grinding its way up the first hill.
He began to see through the bottom of the car to the world below.
He was floating upon it now. He looked to his right and saw the
mountain turn cavernous and distinct. It began to pulsate. Rhythmically, with a
sense of being alive. Clouds formed above and a world of ice
unfolded before him as he climbed higher. The clack of the chain holding
the car on the track seemed to dissipate and turn into bird squawks. Unfamiliar
birds. A mountain of ice stood before him.
Glacier-like textures he’d never seen before. Cold,
shivering, frigid and screaming.
Harrowing darkness. Clouds came out of
nowhere, turning a sunny day into a darkened ghostland, as red sparks shot out
from the horizon and an orange-reddish hue covered the
sky. Lightning and thunder crashed around him. The mountain
started to twitch and perforate like a giant, rubbery egg about to be broken.
It was expanding, stretching, and vibrating until finally two black horns
emerged from the top in an eruption of molten lava, rock, dust and fire.
Two huge arms reached out and blasted their way from the sides with hands
twenty feet across, black, jointed, webbed, and glistening with sweat. A
head with giant bat ears and a huge, flaring nose appeared over the crater as
fire and stone showered around it and down onto Geraldo. A
barreling, hairy chest extended and gave prominence. The head had a
mouse-like shape but it only seemed to be cloaking what could only be perceived
as a far more malevolent inside. It sat atop a blown-apart peak.
This was El Ratone . Geraldo sat speechless, unable to
even move.
Lightning, rain, and fire showered down around
him as El Ratone let out a scream that made Geraldo’s ears feel like
they were bleeding. Its pointy ears, jagged and bloody, arms and hands
long and deadly, swooping around, breathing in fire spewing out
deadly carbon monoxide. He swung forth a huge, mountainous,
semi-aroused rat cock and balls, swaying back
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