LSD
Rusty decided to skip school and take some acid that day. He'd been hanging out with this guy, Skin, and Skin wanted to get drunk. Rusty wanted to impress Skin, so he took LSD. Rusty thought that would impress Skin, taking LSD. They left school and walked to the beer and wine store. Rusty had a fake ID. Skin wanted to get some beer and Rusty knew he could buy it for Skin. He knew this would impress Skin if he bought them beer. They had about three dollars between them and Rusty knew that they could each get a forty-ounce bottle of beer and still have some money left over.
Skin was unimpressed with Rusty's ability to buy beer at the beer and wine store on the corner. He even hated LSD. Skin thought Rusty was a bit dumb, but he liked him anyway. Rusty had a really cool Motorhead pin on his leather jacket and Skin really liked it. Motorhead was an all right band, not Skin's favorite, but not sucky either. Besides, Rusty was kinda funny. It was the way he was a nerd but not, like a wolf in sheep's clothing, only Rusty seemed more like a sheep in wolf's clothing—a geek in leather. This made Skin feel better about himself because Rusty wanted his approval so badly.
"How did you get the name Skin?" Rusty asked as they sat on the merry-go-round in the park.
"Dunno," Skin took a swig of his beer, "Just came in time, I guess."
"Well," Rusty asked, "What's your real name?"
"Dunno," Skin took a swig of his beer, "I forgot. It's been so long, you know?"
"Yeah," Rusty said, agreeing absent-mindedly. "I think I'm beginning to trip," Rusty added.
"Oh yeah?" Skin asked, taking a swig of his beer. "What's it like?"
"You've never tripped before?" Rusty asked.
"Yeah, once or twice. I don't like it, but it's different for everyone. What's it like for you?"
Rusty paused. He was in awe. It was amazing, the idea that everyone tripped differently. He began to wonder if he tripped correctly—if he tripped the right way, the way everyone else tripped. He puzzled. It was a terrible moment, the question as to whether or not he tripped the right way or not. Skin laughed, startling Rusty. "What?" Rusty asked.
"You," Skin said smiling. He took a swing of his beer. "You're a trip." Skin laughed so loudly that it shook the merry-go-round they were sitting on. Rusty looked around to see if anyone noticed.
"Yeah," Rusty replied tentatively, "I guess I am. I dunno," he said, returning to the original question. He wondered if Skin had read his mind or something, but the idea was too sinister so he dismissed it quickly as the wrong way to trip. "I guess I see lots of trails and colors and then I just get quiet because everything is so alive and bright and I get lost in it all so I let it go until it finds me again."
"Wow," Skin said impressed. He took a swig of his beer. "You gonna drink that?" He pointed to the practically full bottle of beer in Rusty's hands. Rusty looked at it and swirled it slightly. "This?" Rusty asked, "Naw. I don't like to drink when I trip. You want it?" Skin took the last swig of beer from his bottle and threw it against the slide next to them. It cracked into a few pieces but didn't shatter as Skin'd hoped.
"Yeah, I'll take it if you don't want it," Skin said, grabbing the beer from Rusty's grip and taking a swig. "Thanks," he added.
"Sure. Fine," Rusty replied, empty-handed.
"So anyway," Skin began again, "You get lost when you trip?"
"Yeah, I guess. Like now. I don't understand what's really going on, so I just let it go. It's fun to look at."
"It sounds scary to me," Skin said, taking a swig of his beer.
"I guess it is—but that can be fun. I mean, it can, can't it?" Rusty looked concerned.
"Sure," Skin said, taking a swig of his beer, "Sure it can. I mean, fear can be fun. I guess that's why there's all those horror movies and stuff out, you know? People like to be scared and all. You like to be scared?"
"Not really," Rusty said.
"Then why do you trip acid?" Skin asked, taking a swig of his beer.
"I dunno. Don't you?"
"I already said no, dude. I don't like it," Skin took a swig of beer and looked at Rusty intently. "I like to get drunk. That's how I let go. I drink. Some people trip. I drink." Skin took a swig of beer.
"I like to drink, too," Rusty said, "and I think it's cool."
"C'mon." Skin said.
"Where are we going?" Rusty stood up.
"My house. I wanna show you something."
"Cool," Rusty said. He followed Skin out of the park watching the sky melt as they walked.
Bill Berry says, "I was born in Detroit, Michigan and live on Cape Cod. I am a college professor who teaches writing and language. Presently, I am busy with my dissertation on identity and writing. My creative work is inherently transgressive. I want people to feel challenged; my fiction reflects this."