Kinjin Holiday Drop #1
Zoya's Vintage Logo Tee
RLP's spirit photographer wears this on jobs, now this dark gray 100% cotton tee can be yours too.
(Zoya not included)
Previously on "Versus"...
Tension is mounting between Grant and Dan on the drive up to Gainesville, where Grant intends to "crack Dan open so he can live" with help from their high school friend Beau. After a disorienting first psychedelic experience, Beau suggests they wake up at dawn to go mushroom-picking outside of town... before they hit the road to New Orleans (gulp).
Need to catch up? I got you:
Versus, Part One / Versus, Part Two / Versus, Part Three
Dawn came but two hours later, turning the rain-spotted windows into a beaded curtain of amber.
Grant and I lay wrapped in cocoons made from Beau's childhood sheets until a solid, single knock at the door awoke us with a start. With the sun blazing behind him, the silhouette of a skinny man leaned into the glass, shading his eyes, watching us. He tapped the glass with his knuckle.
Groggy and still buzzing from the mushrooms, we stared back at him as he repeatedly pointed towards the doorknob and pantomimed opening it:
SKINNY MAN [muffled through glass]: LET. ME. IN. MAN.
Neither of us knew who he was. He knuckle-rapped the window again when Beau padded out into the living room, holding up his too-loose boxers, rubbing sleep from his eyes:
BEAU: Oh. Rich is here.
He unlocked the door and Rich came inside, dusty trail boots on shag carpet.
RICH [to us]: Morninā, stoners. Y'all are just starin' at me like toads on a log.
Rich was around our age but looked like an old man with a boy's face: ratty Gators cap on backwards, blonde catfish whiskers curling inwards from the corners of his mouth. He looked around the room at the mess we'd made:
RICH: Wild night, huh? Shoulda invited me.
Beau snorted a laugh from the kitchen as he rinsed out his Mr. Coffee machine:
BEAU: Who wants some coffee?
We all grunted. Rich nervously paced on the living room rug while we got dressed:
RICH: So, which one of youās Grant and which oneās Dan? [we identified ourselves] I heard stories 'bout the both of you. Old-school friends, huh?
GRANT: Beau and Iāve been friends since fifth grade chess club.
The room hummed with perfume of freshly-brewed coffee, which Beau poured into mugs stolen from local diners. We drank together in silence, exhaling our pleasure in steam striped by orange morning sunbeams. Even with the funk of his mildewy machine, I drank it down, let it warm me from the inside out.
It felt strange somehow to be back in my own āselfā again after completely dissolving into bongo-drumming the night before. I wasnāt sure what exactly had happened to me on those mushrooms, but I definitely didnāt register any stroke warning signs. Immediately the nurseās voice from the prescription bottle hidden in my backpack spoke loudly between my ears:
LITHIUM: Beau told you those mushrooms were old and weak. Next time you may not be so lucky. You are playing with fire and should consult a medical professional before proceeding further.
ME: Stop. Stop talking to me.
Iād said that out loud, realized it a second too late. The door to my crazy had swung open for an instant. Beau looked at me sideways from his barstool perch, raised an eyebrow, drained the rest of his coffee.
BEAU: Rich, itās 6:10am. How much time do we have?
RICH [checking his watch]: Iād say we got us two, maybe two-and-a-half hours to harvest before the shrooms start losing potency.
GRANT: And you know a good spot to find them?
RICH: I know the best spot to find āem. Itās south of town, this little cattle farm about halfway to Rochelle. Thereās something ābout this plot of land that sprouts fat caps, amazing yields. Weāll need a moving blanket, but I keep one in the truck.
He went to grab his blanket, then we piled into my Toyota and hit the road.