Tim felt the warm green grass whisper in his ears as he stared up at the impossibly blue sky. He watched the white, fluffy clouds pulse as they passed, each one mutating into a different farm animal.
A new, mind-bending experience for the professor, which was saying something.
“What’d I tell you?” Tony asked.
His colleague wasn’t lying. He had regaled him with tall tales about coming down to rural Mexico to partake in this little-known psychedelic drug.
And the mushrooms had delivered.
“Should we bring this to Boston?” Tony asked.
“It’d be a crime not to…” came Tim’s reply.
The Weekday One Hundred 