"Those pulsating atoms feel kind of stimulating," thought Muffy just before she lapsed into unconsciousness.
Awhile later she awoke to the sound of Janis Joplin:
Oh Lord, won't you buy me
a Mercedes Benz
My friends all drive Porshes,
I must make amends....
"Hmmm...Mercedes," Muffy mused. "I'd much rather have a Beamer."
"Anything but a Delorean," she added, thinking back on her recent escapade.
Muffy looked around trying to figure out where she was. She found herself in a huge field brimming with strangely clad, and some unclad, mostly long-haired people, who seemed to be having a very good time.
"You look groovy," came a voice from over her left shoulder. Muffy turned to see a man who looked vaguely familiar. His long blonde hair was shaggy and extended to the middle of his back. A bandana was carelessly tied over his forehead and his blue jeans looked liked they had not survived the last bear market.
"Mr. Charters," she exclaimed, as he nodded affirmatively. "But you look so different!"
"Well, so do you," he replied.
And indeed she did. Muffy looked down to see that her designer threads had been replace by low slung, tight-fitting bell-bottoms and a tiny tee-shirt which barely covered her pendulous breasts. Her hair had grown to waist length and was straight as a board, as though it had been ironed. Her feet were bare.
For some unknown reason, Muffy felt the urge to eat brownies and something called ding dongs. She mentioned this to her companion.
"That's only natural," said Charters. "We shared some great weed."
"Did somebody say weed?" shouted a voice in the distance.
Muffy and Charters looked in the direction of the voice and could not believe their eyes......... |
