Fear and Loathing in Neigh Orleans

PART ONE

We were somewhere around Manechac when the drugs began to take hold.

I remember saying something like “I feel a bit nervous, maybe you should drive.” And suddenly, the world slowed down around us, as if we were trapped inside some godawful time capsule. And a voice was screaming, “Pull over! For fuck’s sake, pull over!”

Then it was quiet again. My partner had her muzzle pressed against the window, staring out at the city as if it was going to come in the car and bite her. I slowed down to a crawl, my heart thudding in my chest like a chorus of ravenous dwarves banging cutlery on a table for a round of drinks. Jefferson Airship blared at full volume on the radio, the bass from White Rabbit like a shot of adrenaline straight to my heart. We pulled into the parking lot of some gaudy, miserable-looking department store, slamming the gear into park before the car shuddered and ceased its infernal running.

We weren’t even halfway to Neigh Orleans yet, not a third of the way, even, and the acid had already kicked into full force. The sky had turned into some sort of melting grey sea like something out of a drunken art student’s half-assed forgery of an Impressionist painting. And all around us, the trees had turned into some sort of twisted, green pixelated smears resembling a screencap from a five year old’s Minecraft server. Simply put, I was not leaving anytime soon.

We wandered around the parking lot in a daze, swaying and bobbing and attempting to look normal. The cement had turned into something resembling an oil slick, all colourful and shiny and constantly moving. I had that creeping feeling, of course, that somepony was watching me, paying attention to my every step, just waiting for it to be painfully obvious I was on potent psychedelics. But who? I looked around, and the only one there was a couple of bored-looking shoppers, what looked like a retired, henpecked bank cashier, and a lonely cop car halfway down the other end of the street. Oh shit, was he looking at us? Did he see me? Could he read my thoughts? Wait, why was I saying this out loud?

“What are you mumbling about?” my partner asked, looking up at the sky with an enraptured, unnaturally wide smile. I shook my head, glancing back towards the department store.

“Never you mind. Let’s get what we were looking for. And for Celestia’s sake, please act natural.” She just shrugged, tearing her gaze away from the sky with a disappointed frown.

“Hey, I can do that just fine. You’re the one who’s all twitchy and paranoid. Relax a little, man.” I wasn’t going to argue with that, but I had a reason, dammit! We were in a public place, surrounded by prying eyes, watching, waiting, observing. We had to get in, and then get out, soon.

Doing my best to look perfectly normal, thank you very much, I strode into the store, looking around at what kind of assorted items there were. It was rather difficult to get a decent idea, though, as the obnoxious shelves would not stop constantly moving. I would duck into one aisle and find what I was looking for had moved to another one entirely, or had moved to a shelf above my head, or had simply reappeared halfway across the store. It was getting horrendously irritating, and I wouldn’t stand for it. Bags of potato chips are supposed to stand still. Wait, why were there even potato chips in a department store in the first place? The fact that the fluorescent lights overhead were all winking and blinking and flashing like epileptic Hearth’s Warming lights did not help the situation much.

“You know, I already got the stuff, Silver,” said a voice from far in the distance. I turned around to find myself almost nose-to-nose with my partner, who was already pushing along a shopping cart loaded up with all the things I’d been looking for, but had been unable to find properly. I will never understand how she did it; it was impossible for me to find anything when everything would not stop shifting around just to taunt me.

“Fine, let’s just go then.” I began to step towards the doorway.

“I wanna get some popcorn, first. And maybe one of those big pretzels,” she said with a pout.

I just barely resisted the urge to roll my eyes. My partner has rarely been able to control her fondness for junk food, especially not while under the influence of mind-altering drugs. She always seemed to have cravings at the worst possible times. And it always drove me bonkers. I’ve always been the kind of stallion that, in that kind of situation, just wants to get everything over and done with as quickly as possible so I could retreat to the safe haven of our home. “Seriously, Amber? Now?”

“Yes, now.”

I definitely didn’t want to cause a scene, but my paranoia was starting to rise. Were the shoppers wondering why she was craving these while pushing a cart full of food and supplies already? Were they wondering why I was so insistent to get home? Would the cashier by the popcorn machine notice her enormous, blown-up pupils in a brightly-lit building and make the connection that she was tripping balls? I had at least taken the precaution to put on sunglasses, first. “Amber, we have to get home.”

“I’m buying popcorn and a pretzel first,” she said insistently.

I clapped a hoof to my forehead with a groan, before heading towards the door. “Fine, but I’ll be waiting in the car! Don’t attract too much attention.”

“Please, you know me better than that! I won’t.” She wouldn’t, normally, but I was worried she might end up seeing even weirder things than I and have a freak-out. I wasn’t sure if she’d taken any benzos to stay calm, and didn’t want to take any chances. For all my worry and paranoia, I have never had an honest-to-gods freakout leading into an introspective four-hour nightmare on acid, though I’ve had pretty bad experiences. I’ve always been the one who has had to keep my cool under pressure, or else risk ‘bad things’ of an unknown and unpredictable, yet terrible, nature occurring.
After a wrong turn around a couple of other stores I’m sure were not there at first, I found my way to the car, only to realise it was locked. Of course it was; Amber had the keys, this time. Which left me standing here. Alone. In the parking lot. Trying to look casual. With that cop car still halfway down the street.

Mother of Faust, this was not my day, was it?

Soon enough, mercifully, I heard the tell-tale sound of a shopping cart behind me, and my head whipped around to see Amber strolling along rather merrily. There was a click, and I scrambled to get the back door open as she practically threw the contents of the cart into the back seat. I moved to the front, ready to start the car again, when I realised something vitally important; I was not in any condition to drive. “Shit, er... Amber? Could you...?”

She looked over to me with a glint of panic in her eyes. “Wait, me? I don’t remember the way home, since that roadblock was set up. I’m too fucked-up to do this by myself.”

Shit, I’d forgotten about that. The normal, and quickest route we took back home was currently blocked by a large roadblock with more than a few police cars. Not the way we wanted to go, for sure. “Er... wait, I know the way! I can give you directions.”

She looked at me a little skeptically, tearing her eyes away from the slowly melting and re-forming dashboard. “You sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure! Now switch seats with me.” Instead of getting out like normal ponies, we instead tried to climb over the divider between the seats before realising this wasn’t going to work. Whoever said acid makes one more clear-headed wasn’t factoring in anyone taking more than one hit. It’s always made me feel considerably less thoughtful, at least.

Quickly, we corrected our mistakes, me sliding into the passenger side and her on the driver’s. With a dull rumble and a few sputters, the car sparked to life, belching smoke from the exhaust like an overpacked hookah bowl. Her car, an old Ford Minotaur, wasn’t in the best of shapes, so I was always worried the great dented death machine would give out on us at the worst possible time. With immense hesitation, the car pulled out of the parking lot and began trundling down the street once more, the sound of Mojo Risin’s “The End” caressing our ears.

We were halfway back home when I felt the most curious sensation, starting somewhere in my stomach and spreading into the rest of my body like warm water poured straight into my veins. I was sweating profusely; my blood is too thick for this climate. At first I thought I was floating above my seat, steadily rising through the air and out through the top of the car. Then I felt my heart drop to the bottom of my chest, as if I was suddenly falling. “Oh shit, something’s happening,” I muttered, trying my hardest to keep calm. I felt myself slump forward, and for one terrified moment, I thought I was going to fall through the dashboard and onto the street below.

I glanced over to see my partner, a look of blank, all-encompassing horror in her eyes as she continued driving. I could see that she was ready to freak out, her hooves pressed tightly on either side of the wheel. I felt as if we were being sucked into a whirlpool, pounding drums and droning organs and dark, distant words being whispered into my ears as they swirled and churned all around us.

“Ride the highway west, baby... Ride the snake, ride the snake... to the lake, the ancient lake, baby...” I snapped back to reality with a jolt, as I quickly realised that if I was feeling like this, probably so was she. We couldn’t stop, not yet, or we’d risk being caught, or worse. “Listen to me, alright? Just follow my directions, and we’ll get home. Don’t think, don’t react- just listen. You understand me?” She didn’t nod, but I knew she understood me. “Good. Keep driving, and I’ll tell you where to turn up ahead.”

We continued down the highway, though my fear continued to rise. Somepony had to have noticed we were driving a little erratically, right? Wait, were we even driving erratically? I couldn’t tell, at this point. As we approached the usual street we turned on, I noticed the police cars, and the roadblock, were, to my horror, still there. Instinctively, Amber started to make the turn. “Not here!” I hissed, pointing straight ahead. “Keep going; it’s the next turn!” She corrected the mistake just in time, continuing down the highway as the music continued to blare in our ears. “The blue bus is calling us... the blue bus is calling us... driver, where you takin’ us?”

As we approached the turn, by a mostly-abandoned gas station, I began to hear the faint sound of sirens behind me. I stiffened, my breathing speeding up so fast I thought I was going to pass out from lack of oxygen before we ever got caught. “Oh shit, oh shit, turn here, now!” A bit clumsily, she made the turn, veering briefly into the other lane before straightening up. We were going down the road at top speed now, or at least as close as we could get without risking being pulled over for speeding. Though I had to wonder, what was the point if we were being chased? I knew there were police some distance behind us, as I keep seeing flashing blue and red lights out of the corner of my eyes, as if somepony was strobing a flashlight beneath my eyelids. “Come on, come on, or the cops will catch us!” I muttered, my forehooves tapping against the dashboard nervously.

This was the end, I thought. This was the fucking end. We were going to be arrested, then booked into jail for DUI at least, assuming they didn’t search our house. Or, worse, we were going to crash and die in some horrible, undignified, rain-sodden ditch almost to our house. This was a bad idea, this was a bad fucking idea. I should never have thought we could go out about our normal business before the acid kicked in. Sweet mother of Celestia, we were going to-

And then, it happened. For those of you who have never been on any psychedelic, it is difficult to say what ‘it’ was. But I will try my best. The world seemed to... melt into itself. At first, I felt myself becoming part of the seat, then the car, then my partner as well. All became one, one consciousness in this moment of perfect synergy. There was no longer this fleshy body, these hooves, this esoteric system of veins and nerves, gears and wires, blood and bone and oil and petrol. There was one being, one consciousness in control, one car, one pony. There was only we, no I anymore.

We drove the car back home in a blur of rushing wind and racing colours and passing through several tunnels of warped and distorted time before appearing back out again. We worked together in perfect coordination, her driving and me giving instructions. It wasn’t as if we could read each other’s minds; that would be too simple. We would have needed minds of our own to do that. Instead, we were of one mind, one soul, one breath.

Finally, we pulled into our driveway as the music came to its haunting conclusion. “The end of nights we tried to die... This... is... the... end...” As we stepped out of our car, I felt myself stumble as I walked towards the door. Wait, I? Holy Luna, there was an “I” again!

I might have stayed there for hours, pondering this strange sensation of wholeness becoming separate again, but I was sweating up a storm and eager to get inside. After fumbling with the key for a few minutes, the front door swung open, and we were met with wonderful, blissful, cold air once more.

As I stepped inside, I found my partner right behind me, breathing heavily. “You felt that too, right?” she said, her tone somewhere between awed and desperate. “You fucking felt that too? You felt it? It wasn’t just my imagination?”

At the time, I wasn’t quite sure what I had felt. I wasn’t exactly able to put it into words, as my mind was still reeling and twirling and pirouetting from the sheer overwhelmingness of the experience. “I... I felt something, I know that,” I said feebly, knowing that wasn’t the answer she was looking for as her eyes went wide, looking like she was about to cry.

“You felt it, too, right?” she asked insistently. “Like we were one pony, back there in the car. Like our minds merged together?”

I backed up a few steps, going towards the hallway. “Er, yes, I guess so.”

“You guess so?” Ohhh shit, she looked like she was either thinking I was lying to her or about to burst into tears. Neither was a very good outcome.

“Yes, I felt it. Now come on, let’s go to your room. You look like you’re about to freak out.” I headed towards the door, doing my best to nudge her along with me.

“You felt it?” Dammit, she definitely looked like she was going to cry, that note of desperation in her voice making me even more worried. Amber sad was bad enough, but Amber sad, desperate, and twisted on probably four-hundred micrograms of high-powered, top quality 7-LSP was a different thing entirely.

“Yes, Amber, I felt it. I’m not just saying that because it’s what you want to hear, if that’s what you’re thinking. Now come on- you don’t want the acid to switch gears again, do you?”

She shook her head no, before adding quietly, one more time, “You did feel it, right? It wasn’t just vibrations from the car or something like that?”

I sighed, resisting the urge to just pull her towards her room. Luna’s mane, what the hell did it matter if it was caused by car vibrations or not? It felt absolutely wonderful while it was happening, and now it was over. There was no reason to stand here and speculate about why it happened. “Yes, Amber, I did.”

“I want to go back in the car and test it out, to see if it happens again.”

Luna’s mane, what was she on about? Get back in the car? To test to see if that sensation was repeatable? I had absolutely no desire to be outside again, much less her. I knew she’d almost had a panic attack back at the store, and I had no desire to see the possibility of her going outside, then running around the neighbourhood screaming hysterically about parasprites and fruit bats and bad vibrations at the top of her lungs. Granted, she had never actually done that sort of thing, but I didn’t want to take any chances.

You might be able to turn your back on a pony, but you can never turn your back on a drug.

Reluctantly, I finally got her to come along with me, and we finally collapsed on her bed with a sigh of relief, the ceiling shrinking and breathing and shooting streaks of rainbow overhead. I heard the sound of a locked box rattling nearby, then a hinge opening, and a quick gulp of water, followed by a sigh of relief. I finally was able to relax, myself, as I knew a potential crisis had been averted.

The box in question looked like the inside of a mobile police narcotics lab. We had two bags of prime smoking herbs, two foot-long cuttings of mescaline-filled cactus, five sheets of high-powered 7-LSP blotters, a whole galaxy of uppers, downers, screamers, poppers, a quart of vodka, quart of gin, case of hard cider, and a number of small grey bags filled with an ambiguous white powder whose labels’ meaning escaped me. Not that we needed all that, but once you get locked into a serious drug collection, the tendency is to push it as far as you can.

The thing that worried me the most was, well, everything but the acid, the mescaline and the herbs. Psychedelics were one thing, and a very useful thing at that, but Celestia only knew what was in those bags of snow-white powder. Call me stupid, but I’ve always been of the idea that a drug that looks identical to something else, and that I cannot prepare myself, is too dangerous to take. I did not trust some foreign lab in Chineigha or the like not to put something in there to make it cheaper, or to not label it correctly at all. Run-of-the-mill hallucinogens might make me feel like I was dying, but they wouldn’t actually kill me, or physically harm me at all, potential psychological scarring aside. I couldn’t say the same for the rest, so I tended to stay away from anything I couldn’t identify for sure. Which was, in this case, almost everything.

The pinion was the worst, from what I had seen; there is nothing more helpless and irresponsible and depraved than a pony in the depths of a pinion binge. Whether white powder or balls of sticky red tar, I never had any desire to get into that rotten stuff, or any of its assorted cousins in the opiate family. The closest I had come was Kratos, a kind of low-powered, plant-based quasi-opiod that managed to put somepony into a sort of dreamy, half-asleep state, but without the potential to overdose. The fact that the mixture, a green powder to be made into tea, was so utterly vile that nopony could possibly drink it all at once without gagging definitely helped to keep me away from it. Give me some proper, nice-tasting and non-lethal herbs, and I’d be content.

The rest of the day went by either very quickly or extremely slowly- I don’t quite remember. All I remember is I spent most of it in the bed beside Amber, staring in rapt fascination at the brightly coloured poster above her bed changing colours as if we were stuck in the top of some bizarre psychedelic lighthouse seen through kaleidoscope glasses. Eventually, I found myself able to drift off to sleep, in the midst of some unknown twilight between night and day.