The whole world smells burnt

Inhale deep.

One morning, real early, you wake up dry, coughing, throat tight. Got to pour a big ole cup of hootch from the still to get the taste out.

The whole world smells burnt.

The odor turns out to be the result of a chemical attack on the camp. Minutes after inhaling, everything takes on a rich, vivid chroma, and it all becomes that much better. Everything is great. You are grinning, chuckling, and it takes you a moment to realize it's not the drink that's making you feel this way. You speculate that whole unit was drugged, and you're right, but it is difficult to really worry or care about it.

An experimental gas. Turns out, you find out much later, that it was a strong hallucinogen, one that stays inside you, one that never wears off. You are going to be tripping hard for the rest of your life.

The unit has gone silly mad all around you.

Your favorite part has to be when an insane, totally-tripped-out Hasterson confronts a troop of Marines sent in to see what happened to the unit. He keeps bending over and shoving his ass into Marines' crotches, wiggling his butt in a way he thinks will pleasure them. It goes too far for one Marine, who shoots him in the head for his trouble. Sigall falls, and just lays there, twitching on the ground, life spilling out of him. You laugh and laugh, knowing that the docs could have saved him had they not been perm-tripping.

You laugh longer and harder than you really should.

You never come down.

The whole unit are given a friendly discharge from the army, and big monthly checks take care of you the rest of your life, which is fine since you cannot hold a job. You big chuckle head. They call it a disability, but, the thing is: you love this perma-high. It's pure fucking Gold! You Win WIN WIN!

The End.