My mother always told me not to eat mushrooms that you
find in the woods.
I don’t always take my mother’s advice.
I don’t always take my mother’s advice.
Beyond that, I’m not the sort of man that causes trouble.
I’m 39. I’m married to a wonderful woman and we have two wonderful girls. I’m
an accountant. I own a house in West Haven, Connecticut. I’m a hot-rod enthusiast, and one of these
days I’ll have ‘67 Chevelle—orange with black race strips. But, I love
mushrooms, especially wild mushrooms.
I’m a member of an amateur mushroom forager group—not to worry,
it’s safe—headed by local mycologist Dr. Richard Greene. The forests of New
England are perfect for finding cepes, hen-of-the-woods, lion’s mane, chanterelles,
morels, lobster mushrooms—it’s a mushroom lover’s paradise, and that’s why I
love this region of our fine country.
But, this isn’t a story about how much I love mushrooms.
This is a story about how I inadvertently “tripped balls,” as they say, after
preparing a wild mushroom risotto, and, well, you’ll find out the rest.
I have never used drugs in my life. Well, truth be told,
when I was 13 I tried marijuana once. As I remember, I ate an impressive amount
of General Tso’s chicken and vomited shortly thereafter. My friends panicked,
called my parents, and then called 9-1-1. The ambulance arrived and rushed me
off to the hospital. I passed out for a considerable amount of time on a
hospital bed and woke up to my parents gawking at me in utter reproach. I had
to tell them that I got sick from being high on marijuana. I never used drugs
again.
I suppose I am a complex man at heart, but I enjoy a
simple life and find pleasure in numbers. This may seem unbelievable, but I
assure you this is the truth of the matter. Furthermore, as an amateur mushroom
forager, I employ the utmost safety in my collections. However, I was unaware
that some ordinarily safe mushrooms become toxic when consumed with alcohol. While
pairing my wild mushroom risotto—chock full of honey mushrooms, blewits and
winecaps—with a 2006 Châteauneuf-du-Pape was a palatal
success, the consequence was, well, how should I say?
***
“I’m talking to a dog.”
I fell back onto a wall in my living room and slid helplessly
to the floor. Noodles, my 165-pound Neapolitan mastiff, walked over to me, sat
by my side and put his massive paw on my thigh.
“Pull yourself together Neily. I need you to throw this
ball for me.”
“Just hold on there Noodle-buddy, I need a moment to take
this—hey, what do you mean you need me to throw this ball? What—how—why are you
talking to me?!”
I looked around my living room. The burgundy finish of
the walls radiated with fierce energy. I managed to stumble up onto my feet,
and I looked down at my dog. Noodles stood up as well, and looked me down with
his greenish-yellow eyes.
“Come on now mister Neilson-LaTort-CPA-too-uptight-to-throw-the-ball.
Throw this ball for me!” Noodles
bellowed and stamped his left paw a couple times.
“Noodles, you don’t understand. I—I’m talking to you.”
“But you always talk to me; what’s different
this time?”
“You responding! In English! In full, coherent sentences!
You don’t do that! You’re a dog!”
“Well I just don’t know what to say. That
hurt my feelings.” Noodles said as he turned around and headed to his bed.
“No, no. Come now, Noodle-buddy…who’s my Noodle-buddy?”
“Who are you…uh…talking to…honey? Heh-heh. Yeah!” My wife
called out from our first-floor master bedroom. Her speech was slurred and she
sounded heavily intoxicated for only having one glass of wine with the risotto.
“Why don’t you come in here and…stick your dick in
me…right now!”
“Kitty, dear, the… uh… the girls?”
“They’re spending the weekend at my sister’s…duh! Get in
here and bend me over!”
I looked at Noodles in shock. He looked at me and cocked
his head.
“Sounds like Katrina needs you to mount her. It’s okay,
I’m not jealous. You neutered me, remember?”
My eyes widened at Noodles’ as-a-matter-of-factness, but
a carnival that began to emerge from the corner of one of the living room walls
caught me off guard.
“…Merry-go-round”
“Neily, get in here and fuck me! Way-oh!”
“Neilson, get a hold of yourself.
I was just a pup. I don’t actually remember, I just know I don’t work like I
see on the nature programs.”
“Neily, baby, Kitty wants to fuck!”
“I can just chew on this rope you
got me. I understand you need to fulfill your natural purpose.”
Between the exuberant sex drive of my wife, the calm
level-headedness of my dog, and the miniature carnival complete with a Ferris
wheel and rollercoaster, I ran out of my house like a man on fire. Noodles jumped
out of his bed and trotted after me.
***
“I believe I can fly… I believe I can touch the sky… I
think about it every night and day…Spread my wings and—what the hell? Damn, R.
Kelly, not you!”
I power-walked my neighborhood street and wanted to get
as much distance between me and my home as my legs would allow. The night sky
was clear and the air was crisp with an autumn breeze, but I felt hot—complete with
a sweat-beaded forehead and clammy palms. In the near distance, I heard the
tell-tale trot of Noodles’ heavy stature behind me. I looked around and there
he was.
“Hey, Neily, what happened back there?”
“Noodles, I don’t know what’s got over me. I
think I need to get to a hospital… Kitty! Oh Kitty! My sweet meow-meow.
Meow-meow. Mee-ow! I mean…what the
hell am I talking about?”
“Neil, calm down. Let’s just go for a walk. Anyways, I
need to poop.”
We walked down my oak tree-lined street. The fall foliage
played tricks on my eyes as color dripped from the leaves.
“I’ll relieve my bowels over here.” Noodles said as he
headed over to his usual tree. “Do you have a poop bag?”
As my dog went to do his business, I considered my
altered state—what could have brought on these hallucinations? I considered my
mushroom risotto, but I couldn’t wrap my head around it. I foraged all of those
mushrooms with Dr. Greene and he painstakingly demonstrated how to identify
them—spore prints, bruise patterns and all. I considered if Dr. Greene may have
mistaken any of the mushrooms—my heart dropped and I took a heavy swallow. My
thoughts began to run wild. I’m going to
die. Oh God—why?
“Noodles, c’mere boy. We have to go back to the house. I
need to get those mushrooms!”
***
The house was quite, save the rhythmic drone of a heavy
snore that erupted from the master bedroom—Kitty was passed out cold; Hitachi
“Magic Wand Massager” in hand. After I checked up on my sweet Kitty, I headed
to the kitchen and grabbed a paper bag filled with fungus from out of the
refrigerator. Next, I grabbed my cellphone from my pocket.
“Who y’gonna call, Neily?” Noodles asked with one ear
cocked up.
“Heh heh, Ghostbusters!” I said reactively. “No, not the
Ghostbuster! Dr. Greene! I need to see him right now… I… I’m freakin’ out
Noodles! I’m an accountant, for Christ’sake!”
I looked down to call Dr. Greene, but the colors on my
phone’s screen bled in and out with psychedelic wonderment. After a quick pause
to ogle the fantastical illusion, I regained a sense of composure and immediately
threw my phone against the wall. In hindsight, I wish I didn’t do that.
“Damn technology! Quick Noodles, to the car! I must find
Dr. Greene!”
“Can I ride in the front seat?”
“Yes! Just this once, since you asked.”
“Can I be captain?”
“Don’t push it.”
***
I drove for what seemed to be hours into the night,
although the cool blue clock display announced 9:42. I got in my car at 9:36.
Noodles and I made it to the end of the street.
“Why won’t this rattrap drive?!” Unbeknownst to me, I slammed the car into neutral and
stepped on the gas—the law of gravity and principle of inertia haplessly took
care of the rest.
Noodles and I abandoned the car where it “staled” and
decided to head on foot. I secured the bag of mushrooms comfortably around the
mastiff’s neck and we were off.
“Dr. Greene lives in New Haven proper, slightly Northwest
of Yale’s campus. If my calculations are correct, when traveling 50 miles an
hour, arriving at Dr. Greene’s home takes approximately 15 minutes from my home.
Multiply that by 4 and then divide that by .06 then times that by 3 and we
should have an estimated travel time of…uh…um…”
“How long will it take?” Noodles said with a stomp of his
paw.
“Uh...3
days?”
“I thought you were a good
accountant.”
After I had my manhood chopped down by a dog, we started
to head in what I supposed to be the direction of Dr. Greene’s home.
***
I lost track of time at this point. I didn’t have a watch
on my wrist, and after I assaulted one of my kitchen walls with my phone and deserted
my car at a curb I had no way of telling time. Noodles and I were lost. We
walked by a park and decided to take a break.
“I’m thirsty.” Noodles said.
“I know buddy. I know. Don’t cry though,
we’ll make it somewhere. Somehow. Whoa, look at the sky...”
As I trailed off into a hallucinogenic stupor, Noodles
stared at me rather perplexed.
“I’m not crying. I’m just thirsty, is all.”
After a moment, my mind registered Noodles’ comment as
contrary to my original observation. I looked over at my dog, and he was
heading over to what appeared to be a woman sitting at the bottom of a slide in
the park’s playground.
“Noodles, come!” C’mere Noodles!”
He looked back at me, looked over at the girl’s direction
and looked back at me again. The faint whimper hit me like a truck.
“Oh, it’s her!”
I proclaimed with an utter lack of finesse. Noodles just looked down and shook
his head in disapproval.
“Oh, uh, hey, girl! I mean, uh, lady—ma’am—are you… is
everything alright? Do you need a, uh, a hand?” I said as I followed shortly
behind Noodles. “That’s my dog; he’s nice. I think he talks…” I followed up
with, feeling slightly uncomfortable as I uttered the wildly unbelievable assertion.
“Stay back! I don’t need anything! Just go! Leave me
alone!” The woman yelled after she pulled something out of her mouth.
Noodles approached the woman first. He wagged his tail
cautiously low and held his head slightly declined as he slowly trotted closer.
The woman stared at the giant dog. I admired Noodles’ shiny blue coat for a
moment before I realized the woman was looking through the paper bag tied
around his neck.
“Wait, don’t look in there! They’re not what you think!
Ma’am!” I yelled out as a made a quick sprint toward her. In my haste, I
tripped over a wooden plank and landed face first into sand.
“Hey, what’s your problem? Do I look
like a ma’am? I’m only 17!” The girl
snapped at me, oblivious to my current face-plant status. “What’s up with the
bag of ‘shrooms on your dog? Are they magic
mushroom?”
I got up and shook my head in total
confusion. The sensation of sand all over my face and in my clothes felt like
caterpillars crawling all over my skin—I kind of liked it.
“Uh, um. Sorry ma—uh, gir—uh, young
lady. Do you know what time it is?”
“It’s 10:07. What are
you doing here? What’s wrong with
you?”
“I poisoned myself with those
mushrooms—I’m dying. My wife—oh sweet Kitty—she’s…she could be dead! Oh God! We
have to find Dr. Greene! Can you take me?”
“Neily, she has
something in her hand. What is it?”
“Noodles, not right now. We’ll talk later—Can
you take me to Dr. Greene? What is your name?”
The girl’s countenance drew on a
confused look.
“Dude, why are you talking to your dog like that?”
“I’m
an accountant; you have to believe me. I think I... I’m having hallucination.”
“You mean you’re tripping balls on
mushrooms.”
“I
don’t know!”
“Look, I’m Olivia… Whatever, I don’t
care, where do you need to go? I’ll just take
you. But, can I have some of the ‘shrooms?”
***
“What’s up with you and your dog?”
Olivia probed as I openly dialogued with my pooch. We traveled down Boston Post
Road in her 2011 Land Rover. Fortunate for me, Olivia was familiar with the Westville
neighborhood where Dr. Greene lived. After some awkward moments passed, such as
my request of her to address Noodles with “dignity and respect,” Olivia started
warming up to me—she even gave me some glow-sticks to play with that she had in
her glove compartment. She said she lived in the East Rock neighborhood; her
father is a surgeon at Yale Medical, and she was at my West Haven neighborhood
park to “get away from her shitty life, asshole dad and dumb-bitch stepmother,
Linda.”
“I just hate that place—I hate
Linda. She’s always trying to fucking mom
me. My mom is dead, and—and she can’t
just move in and try to replace her! Dad just can’t replace mom with some bimbo
bitch. Can you believe she tried to get me to go to a shooting range with her?
And go to church! She’s a total gun-nut Jesus pig.”
“Oh, I’m sorry about
your mother. How long ago did she…um…die?” I squeaked out, followed by a heavy
gulp-of-a-swallow; I couldn’t help but think of my own mortality if we didn’t
make it to Dr. Greene’s soon. Olivia took a left onto a road I wouldn’t drive
down.
“Uh, are you sure you want to go—”
“Neil, let her drive.
There was something in her hand. Something made of metal, and I’ve seen it on
the human programs. I think it was—”
“Noodles, hold on, I think we’re
going the wrong way.”
“No, we’re not. I have
friends-and-whatever around here. I know
where we’re going.” Olivia interrupted. “Dude, you know you’re just hallucinating you’re dog talking, right?
He’s just barking and grumbling like dogs do.”
“Well… uh, so what were
you doing at the park by yourself? Don’t you young kids have Twitter and
YouTube? I have two girls—4 and 7—they’re just growing up so fast! I worry
about them whenever they’re away. Doesn’t you father worry about you being out
so late?”
“He doesn’t care. He thinks I’m beyond help. He’s embarrassed of me
because I’m… because I’m not like what he wanted
me to be.”
“Whoa now, little lady.
I’d be proud of my girls no matter what choices they make. I want to be there
for them and help guide them to make good decisions… Oh my! Are you in trouble
at school? The law?”
“No, that’s not it at all…” Olivia
said as she looked straight away toward the road ahead of her. “These mushrooms
aren’t kicking in. Are you even tripping, or just a wacko?” She questioned as
shot a suspiciously cutting glance at me with the corner of her eyes.
“Olivia, no. I don’t know what you
want from the mushrooms, they’re just wild edibles. Culinary edibles, not for drug use—are you using drugs? Is that why
you have a negative home-life?”
“Dude, get off of it!
I’m… I’m fucking gay, alright! A homo! I like girls, and my dad and his bimbo
think they can fucking cure me and
send me to therapy! Do you think I asked to be gay? Do you! I try to like boys.
I just don’t—I never did and I never will, and I won’t be anyone’s problem anymore! Get out of my fucking car you wacko!” In
an instant, Olivia cut her Land Rover into a strip mall parking lot and slammed
on the breaks. Noodles tumbled forward from the back seat. She torn into a bag
she had under her seat and pulled out a matte black pistol with a simulated
wood grip.
“Get the fuck out of my car!”
“Wa-Wa-Wait a minute! I
didn’t mean to upset you! Please, don’t do anything rash! Oh man, what’s
happening?”
“I’m sick of it! I’m sick of
everyone trying to fix me! I’d rather
be dead than deal with this shit anymore—then I won’t be anyone’s problem!” She
shoved the gun under her chin. “I’ll do it, I will!”
“Noodles, God-almighty, you’ve been
trying to tell me all night! What now?”
“I don’t know, Neil. I
don’t like this. Talk to her. Try to comfort her.”
“How am I supposed to do that? Uh—Olivia
please, listen to me! You’re young, and have so much to discover and
experience! It’s okay that you’re gay, some people just don’t understand!”
Olivia stared at me with the same
fear and innocence I all-too-often see in the eyes of my young daughters when
they don’t understand. At that moment, a proverbial flash of light blinded me.
In my sudden disorientation, all I could do was focus in on Olivia’s face—it
glowed beautifully with Technicolor saturation. I examined her soft features
for what seemed like an eternity; she yelled slurs at me, but I couldn’t understand—all
I saw was her bright blue eyes, baby-fat cheeks, pouty bottom lip, cleft chin,
button nose, brunette hair and alabaster skin. She looked like my youngest—my
sweet, fiery 4-year-old child. An urge poured over me like fresh warm milk.
“You’re so beautiful, and you have
to understand…” And with that, I reached into her and kissed her softly on her
nose. After an initial a moment of shock, her tension released and I felt tears
roll from her cheeks into my hand. We sat in her Land Rover, parked in a strip
mall parking lot that could’ve been anywhere in the world. I held her safely in
my arms, just like my 4-year-old.
***
Olivia, Noodles and I drove around
for what seemed to be hours, but at that point, I gave up on keeping track. I
was along for the ride, and I think Olivia was as well. Sure, I enjoy a simple
life and find pleasure in numbers, but I am a complex man at heart. We never made it to Dr. Greene’s that
night. In Olivia’s “expert” opinion, I was just “tripping balls,” and my sweet
Kitty probably was, too. I don’t know where kids come up with these sayings.
“Man, you’re so lucky you didn’t
have to pay for them!” Olivia said as she gave me a sly smile .
“Well, my mother always told me not
to eat mushrooms you find in the woods.”
***
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