A few days ago at my place, girlfriend away. Vlad and I made a brilliant plan of study. Vodka tonic: a third of vodka (Absolut), 2 thirds of tonic water, 2 ice cubes, two slices of lemon, few drops of Martini. All day we headed up to get the most psychedelic music in the world and at 16:00 we started the experiment. The first 20 minutes I do not know what happened. I’ve lost Vlad, as well as the sense of reality. I was in Ukraine, in a big city, it was late autumn, I was single and looking for somebody to have sex with. For a few days some rumors about an infection where heard. I went to an establishment where a lady with a smile on her face directed me to a room (later I knew what that was about), I lose connection and I wake up in two hours with a pink stain between my big finger and my middle finger on my left hand. It was like a savage rose petal (and here my mouth is filled by saliva, see better, honey of roses), a sensitive infection, a portion of pinky skin as big as a quarter dollar, which contrasts sharply with the rest of my hand, dirty, with oil and vaseline, with black fingernails (why is that?). My first thought is not to scratch, it's imperative not to scratch, although I felt no need to do so. I continued to walk through a big market, asphalted, thinking that I still have to hustle somebody. And then the infection explodes, hundreds of desperate people running from hundreds of zombie, I come to my senses a bit and start to run, I hide after some blocks, I am alone and it would be nice to find a group, something, anything, I’m alone and it’s already dark and it slowly starts to snow. The pink stain on my finger starts to burn and I realize that I am infected. I find a group of frightened people, join them on a dark alley, we hear some shootings, many are starting to yell, we move towards a random direction, behind us is a group of zombies that runs toward us. I wake up crawling under some wrought iron fences, I have people around me crawling as well. We arrive at a deserted intersection, my pink stain is already purple, the rose has withered. A green army car arrives, filled with ukrainian soldiers, all dirty and tired. They laugh and we laugh, we’re saved now, an old man gives a soldier a cup full of steamy coffee (what?), he laughs, the dust on his face cracks between the wrinkles, and accepts the cup. There is a beautiful image of caramadery flowing around, snow flakes fall through a cone of light from a street lamp. I'm infected and I miss the atmosphere of safety that has overwhelmed the group. On an alley there’s a bunch of zombie, the soldiers start to shoot at them, I find myself trying to shoot with an AK47 that doesn’t wotk, what am I to do with it? I find myself crawling under those fences again (where to where?) side by side with that old man with the cup of coffee, I hear yellings in the back, I crawl faster, with the AK47 in my hand (why?), I hate this, I’m infected and that stain between my fingers is already black. Soldiers die, they all die, I’m standing alone in that big market and thousands of zombie head slowly toward me, surrounding me in a perfect circle. I’m thinking I’m going to die, so at least I have to do it with dignity, I arrange my clothes, I’m standing proudly and the snow falls on me.
At this point everything blurs and I wake up puking in the toilet. This is the first and probably the last time I smoke x.