Look, no one’s here to judge you. You did start with the recommended serving size, absolutely. But 20 uneventful minutes go by and ideas you could’ve sworn were stupid before start to sound not so stupid.
Must have been too low a dose, you tell yourself, an adult with no functional knowledge of what a milligram is.
Maybe I’m immune to edibles? The simplest explanation is a lack of patience, sure, but aren’t sudden, crappy X-Men powers just as likely?
What’s the worst thing that can happen? You chortle as you hork down two more brownies and rocket into a vertiginous hell dimension of mute screams and endless, weird sweating.
So now you’re in the fevered paranoia of a bad edible high, and in stark contrast to the snack that brought this upon you, I’m not going to sugarcoat it – you’re going to be here for awhile.
#1: You Aren’t Dying
I know, you’re really sure. Every molecule in your body is screaming that certain-albeit-non-specific death is poised on gobliny haunches, ready to uncoil. Thing is, not really though.
You can kill yourself with pot brownies, sure, but it would just take way more than three of them, and Sweet Lady Insulin Shock would be the one to carry you off in the end.
“What if it was laced with something?!” I hear you fretting. Calm down. If you live in a state without legal weed, it’s important to know your dealer. Ask yourself: would Jeff do that to you? I mean…Jeff?
If you live in a state with legal weed, remember that those edibles came in a wrapper with a melting panda on it. If the company that made Bao Bao’s Brown Wownies is serious enough
to hire a graphic designer, they also have investors, a supply chain, and a mortgage. If nothing else, have faith that capitalistic self-interest will keep arsenic outta those Wownies. Nobody is dying, dude.
#2: You Are Totally Dying
Everything I said before? Yeah, I was trying not to freak you out. You’re definitely dying. You just ate three bricks of fentanyl-laced asbestos, in what conceivable universe are you not dying? In fact, why are you even still reading this? You should be yelling. Go ahead, I’ll wait.
Now, in order to wring maximum terror out of this edible experience, go ahead and re-read item’s #1 and #2 back to back, over and over again, for at least three more hours.
#3: The Fetal Position – Thundershirt of the Mind
Consider settling into what we’ll call “The First Cringe.” Nothing says “I’m an adult and things are fine” quite like folding into a ball and quivering like a piece of trash stuck in a chain-link fence.
Does it stop the sensation of falling backwards forever? No, not at all, but it is nice to get down there and see what your knees are up to every once and awhile. Howdy, fellas! Just don’t push for that next level of amniotic realism by trying this in a bathtub. The last thing your psychedelic meltdown needs is a water hazard.
#4: Clothes Are Traps! So Are Walls!
Do you feel that? How, like, your energy isn’t flowing? All those constricting Victorian shame-rags are clogging up your chakras. How the hell is your qi supposed to circulate while you’re festooned with totems of self-hate and austerity? It can’t. Exactly.
So now that you’re ass-naked, we must confront the larger truth – aren’t buildings just clothes with plumbing and large appliances? How can you feel the breath of Mother Gaia on your skin shackled inside this consumerist oubliette? You can’t. Exactly.
Just explain all this when your friends try to stop you from leaving. Remember, a lot of people won’t fully commit to restraining a naked person. Use this. Don’t be weird about it, just maximize that discomfort.
When your one roommate who did sports in college pins you to the floor, remember to use your yelling from item #2. Amidst the scrum, crane your head up, peer through the window just as a breeze sends sunlight dancing through the trees. Feel the celestial alignment of your becoming wane. Howl like a newly orphaned vole. Realize that Darrin pressing his knee into your back and yelling “Just be cool, man!” is probably how most spiritual awakenings end.
Note: This post is intended for comedic purposes and should not be treated as actual advice.