But what goes up must come down. The car crashed back to earth as Ryland stamped his foot on the accelerator.

“HEY YOU FUCKIN’ SHARDED CUNT! NEARLY HIT ME!”.

The angry voice was cut off abruptly as The Unleashed Junglecat furiously accelerated towards the town in his Australian-made V8. The apshalt bruised beneath the screeching rubber. It was in the depths of this angry/hateful/lustful binge that Max found himself a peaceful and somewhat serene place. A moment of clarity, for those more experienced users. He tried to hazily replay his memory of the night before .

He and Ryland had headed to the Mountains for one final, meaningful Trip. A note of finality before he leaves the country to further pursue his studies.He had seen Fung. Thats right! A friend from his University days. He comes and goes. And what were they doing now? Ravaging many miles down a quiet country street in the search of the ever elusive vertical smiles. They had been working these past few months, they were looking to get their moneys worth. As he tried to reclaim his hazy memory and purpose, Ryland got lost in the befuddled look Max creates when attempting to solve a problem. He got anxious when Maximillan began to gently chew his lip. Fortunately, he was yanked back to reality by the clanking of the gears and he felt the pressure within him begin to rise. Irrationial anger, irrational fear. These were new to Ryland. His blood began to boil, his arms tensed and he felt a familiar throbbing sensation from the depths of his loins.

An erection had started to swell.

He couldn’t hide it, he couldn’t repeat the process of flipping his member under his belt. He was half-deluded in this crazed, manic state. Max noticed. Out of the corner of his eyes, he recognized the gentle pulsating of penis against material. His palms began to sweat. He licked his lips and gazed brazenly at the winding country road ahead of him, trying desperately to recall last nights events. Ryland glanced at Max, surely he had not seen his penis. The salami began to tighten and push against the inner zip of his pants. The current objective was simple, relieve sexual tension. But the reason for which remained somewhat unclear. The only thing that Ryland could know for certain was that the taste of cock in his mouth was overwhelming.

Fung eagerly sniffed the fresh mountain air and his mind set to the only task it could. His eyes fixated on the Forrest floor, scouring the foliage embellished with the titillating quivers of shadows cast from the eucalyptus leaves far and high above.
“Fuck! It’s fucking beautiful as shit out here!” exclaimed Ryland.
“Buddy, I’ve worked in a maximum security prison for nine years and that’s still the gayest shit I’ve heard.”
Ryland’s lips parted slightly, taking an embarrassingly long time to respond, he thought to himself of his masculinity and its depletion, in the face of Max’s arrogance.
“Fuck you, Max!”
Their petty pleasantries were disrupted as Fung yelped. “I found the mushrooms”. Fung’s broken english conjured images in Ryland’s mind of previous incidences of decadence and debauchery. The presence of these strange yellow foreigners in Ryland’s adult life punctuated every instance of his carnal sexual congress and exuberant drug use.
Fung presented a surprisingly large quantity of psychedelic Funghi, all held within the drooping folds of his stretched hoodie.
“Lets eat gayboys!” exclaimed the jovial Chinaman.
The shrooms were evenly distributed amongst the budding psychonauts and were soon sliding down the gullets of the unwary travellers.
“How long do we have?” asked Ryland.
“7.2 inches! YEAH BABY!” Max motioned towards the visible bulge in his pants.
A silent moment passed as the Chode and the Chinaman considered the behemoth that was Max’s niggercock (Maximus Niggercock they used to call him in their High School days).
“You should feel it soon,” said Fung calmly as he slid his hand onto Ryland’s leg.
“You guys are fucking gaylords, you should take your shirts off and kiss,” said Max, as his voice trailed off. His attention tended to be tenuous and his thoughts would erratically spring to the depths of his dark psyche.
“You sick fuck Max.” Ryland said angrily.
“Hey Ryland man, just chill out. Just touch my nipples, they so HARD right now!”
“You can fuck right off Fung, you yellow fuck.” Ryland stood up, “You guys are going to fuck my trip up, you guys are retards, sincerely. I need to go smoke so many cones now.”
Ryland left the gruesome twosome around the fire pit to hotbox the campervan solo. Ten minutes past but through the thick smoke that filled the air in the cramped cabin there was no possible way to see outside. Ryland emerged to find the world outside much more beautiful. A sense of awe had overcome him.
“You guys feel anything?”
Max was gone. Physically there, though totally unresponsive, slack-jawed and drooling. Fung walked right up to Ryland and stood right before him, terrified, Fung stammered:
“Ryland, I must go. You bad man. I cannot trip with a rapist.”
And with that. From the top of Fung’s head his entire being unravelled in a long ribbon blown far into the darkness of the woods.

The only thing that Max could know for certain was that he had ejaculated last night. Glancing out the window he recognized some familiar faces.