Memory lane

"Now listen here. This is some real strong stuff", my plug tells me. "And you listen here. I ain't no punk, so I can handle it", I tell him. "I'm being serious guy. A lot of people have being saying this stuff can sometimes give you a bad trip", he tells me.

"Fine! I'll take it easy with this one", I tell him while grabbing the pills from his hands. I pay him, and head off to my house. I sit by the TV, intrigued by what's showing.

"Who is The Ghost of the Music Industry", the TV host asks. Most shows nowadays are about The Ghost of the Music Industry, and how people have their theories about who it possibly is.

"Well, we know for a fact he's a guy",  the male guests on the show states. The female guest cuts in saying, "now wait just a minute. How show are we about that. And what really proves that it's a guy". "Would a woman write a twerk. I  mean it's pretty obvious", the guy says.  "So what, a woman can't write a twerk song for her fellow sisters", she tells him.  "And please remember that you men aren't the only ones who writing these songs. In fact, women write way better twerk songs", she tells the male guest.

"Well duh. 80% of the song is of you actually twerking, 15% is of you looking good, and the 5% is of you maybe rapping", he tells her in a fit. The two soon start arguing with each other, and the host tries their best to try and calm down the situation.

I burst out laughing, throwing a pill in my mouth straight after. I  wait 30 minutes, and exclaim to myself, "I can't feel jack". I grab another two pills, and throw them into my mouth. I get up and go to the fridge to get a snack. I grab a bunch of  grapes and start throwing them into my mouth one by one. I walk back to the TV, and find the show is now ending with the host stating, "the question still remains, who is The Ghost of the Music Industry". I start to laugh with a mouthful of grapes and exclaim, "I'll tell you who it is. ..". I soon lose the ability to speak. I look at my hand as it starts to shake uncontrollably, and I  lose 70% feeling of my body.

My eyes roll back into my head, as I exclaim, "Oh shit", and pass out onto the ground.

I hit my head pretty bad on the ground, and knock out completely. I start to have a sort of flashback, a memory of the very last time I spoke to Chris.

Him and I are walking to his place. My intention is to drop him off halfway and make my way back home. "So what's the first thing you're going to do when you get rich and famous", Chris asks me. "I don't know. Buy my parents a house. Buy myself a mansion. Dang I never thought about it that much", I tell him. "Why not", Chris asks me.  "I never felt like it was that important to think about", I tell him. "Well you really should think about it. I mean money tends to change people a lot", Chris exclaims. "Yeah well I definitely won't let that happen to me. I don't put out that easily", I tell him with a chuckle. Chris stops walking, and stands behind me. I turn around to him, and ask him, "and then. You don't want to go home now". Chris sighs and says, "That may be the case, but just promise me that you won't let the money change you, don't let it get to your head".

I tell him, "don't worry my guy. That's not a possibility. Now can we keep moving now", I tell him while starting to walk off. Chris laughs, but it's almost like a heavy laugh. "Can't I spend the night at your place. I don't really feel like going home tonight", he asks me.  "Hell no! So you can eat up all my food in the fridge. I'm taking your fat ass back to your own house", I tell him while laughing. Chris laughs too, "okay. It was worth a try", he says.

We continue walking to his place. The memory soon fades away.

I wake 2 hours later in a cold sweat, panting for dear life.