Lapse of Reason

By A.D. Hall

One would expect to remember cold blooded murder, but when the consequences are inconvenient, it's easy to forget. Ian Stewart did, but that didn't stop bad things from happening. He just stopped noticing. "Lapse of Reason" is a mature, humorous adventure about someone who tried to take a fork in the road, and ran off a cliff.

Out of work and glum, Ian takes a psychedelic mushroom in a thunderstorm, and it changes his life. It's not all happiness and love, though. He takes a dark turn and drags his friends into a hell-storm of consequences he blithely ignores.
As luck would have it, he knows just the Psychiatrist to help, but her mental state is no better than his. His friends would help, but he doesn't listen to them anymore. And the new friend in his head can't be ignored, nor its twisted, sadistic and horny impulses. So what to do? Just go with it, man! Fate will work it out.

• Language: English
• Publisher: A.D. Hall
• Release date: Jul 1, 2015
• ISBN: 9781311175670

A.D. Hall

A.D.Hall, born 1957 in Tucson, Arizona is the father of three beautiful children, grandfather of one, and lives with his partner Kathy and dog Ginger. He has a degree in Mechanical Engineering from the University of Arizona and spent most of his career in the energy business before leaving it to write. "Lapse of Reason" is his debut novel.

Book preview

LAPSE OF REASON

By

A. D. Hall

Smashwords Edition Published by A.D. Hall

Copyright 2015 Andrew David Hall

Cover Art by: Seth Anderson and Ashley Hall

This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment. It may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite e-book retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

CHAPTER 1 - THUNDER OMELET

CHAPTER 2 - LET’S TALK FRY-BREAD

CHAPTER 3 - THE OLD RECIPES SUCK

CHAPTER 4 - LOBSTER À LA AYAHUASCA

CHAPTER 5 - SHE CAME, BUT SHE DIDN’T EAT

CHAPTER 6 - CHICKEN-SHIT PÂTÉ

CHAPTER 7 - SESOS CRUDOS DE CADILLAC

CHAPTER 8 - GREEN CHILE WEREWOLVES

CHAPTER 9 - VULCAN BREAKFAST

CHAPTER 10 - POPSICLE SEX

CHAPTER 11 - A WAFFLE WITH NO NAME

CHAPTER 12 - PANCAKES AND CARBINES

CHAPTER 13 - COKE AND A BAKER’S DOZEN

CHAPTER 14 - BLOOD SAUSAGE

CHAPTER 15 - HOW TO STIR A BLOODY MARY

CHAPTER 16 - THE CREAM IN HIS COFFEE CUP

CHAPTER 17 - FEED THE CAT BEFORE YOU LEAVE

CHAPTER 18 - ROAD-KILL

CHAPTER 19 - PISTOL SANDWICH

CHAPTER 20 - STEAK DIANE

DEDICATION

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

PREVIEW - DEMON REDEMPTION

CHAPTER 1 - THUNDER OMELET

Ian Stewart peered into the wooded gloom ahead, and breathed chill air, pausing a moment in sunlight to reflect on why he was here. It was because he had free time. And he had free time because he was out of a job. But free time turned ugly if spent worried about finding a job. So, he was here to forget about that and enjoy his free time.

When Louis raised the idea of camping, it was the last thing on his mind. He was unemployed for the first time in his life and didn’t know what to do. A week already passed and he hadn’t told anyone – there were things to figure out before he was ready for that. But if he could tolerate Louis for a while, he realized camping was a good idea - get perspective in the mountains while his subconscious worked the problem - so he’d agreed to go.

While they hiked into a narrow canyon, crossing the stream on slimy rocks, he stayed focused on keeping his feet dry and finding mushrooms. Mushrooms were the main reason for the trip. Louis self-diagnosed a nutritional deficiency that, he claimed, was affecting his head, and he meant to balance his diet with a particular fungi that grew here. That Louis suffered a cranial deficiency was no surprise to Ian, but he didn’t think a mushroom was likely to help matters. Nevertheless, he gamely went along, because he had free time.

Keeping his feet dry was to avoid hypothermia; although he was beginning to worry that wouldn’t be enough. He’d given away his windbreaker - because Louis forgot - leaving him in short-sleeves. Now the temperature was plummeting. A mellow, Zen-like state wasn’t attainable with chattering teeth; he wanted the blue windbreaker back.

His foot sank in watery mud, Shit! The boot sucked when he pulled it out, wet to the ankle. What about these, Lou, he asked, yanking away ferns to look at a clump of mushrooms. They look like little aliens.

Move over, I need to get down close, Louis said, leaning on his shoulder for support. Again, he had to step in mud for balance, while Louis put his face to the ground and fingered the tiny stalks.

He watched his blue windbreaker turn brown as Louis wiped muddy fingers on it. Are you milking them? he asked.

I’m trying to identify them, Louis said.

You’re peaking under their skirts…they’re just babies, Lou. Find mushrooms your own age.

I’m looking for a blue tint when I squeeze a stem, that’s how you know, Louis said. These don’t turn blue – they’re LBM’s. Little brown mushrooms all look the same. I can’t trust my ability to tell one from another.

This didn’t make Ian happier. Like every fad Louis pursued, enthusiasm outpaced his knowledge - he learned only enough to be dangerous. Louis did predict the mushroom outbreak perfectly - and it was epic - give him credit for that. Heavy thunderstorms soaked the Peñaleno Mountains from early summer, and he said that would bring a big bloom by the first week of August. Now, in a high canyon near the lake, they hiked on spongy ground covered in fungal splendor. The trouble was, Louis never collected mushrooms before in his life, and in spite of his field guide, couldn’t identify any.

You can’t trust your ability… Ian pondered aloud while crawling behind a fallen tree. What about this white one, it looks like the kind I get at the grocery store. Come on expert, what is it?

It’s not what we’re looking for, but it might be an edible variety, said Louis. He only glanced at the mushroom.

Well get out your book - look at the pictures. Even if it’s not psilocybin, we should find something for the omelet. I brought everything except mushrooms because we came to collect, right? Not just look.

We’ll find some…here, take my stick. Louis handed him the walking stick and opened his ‘Mushroom Field Guide for Dummies’ on the mossy ground. See, he pointed to a picture in the book. It looks like this…it’s a field mushroom, it’s good to eat."

You sure? It looks just like that one…what’s that? said Ian, pointing to the opposite page. He didn’t think Louis examined the picture very carefully.

That’s a Death Cap - we don’t want that, said Louis. Survivors say it’s the best mushroom they ever tasted, though.

The survivors say that, huh? Ian rolled his eyes. I’ll tell the cook for my last meal. He stood up and brushed his pants. Chill, moist air blew up the canyon, raising goose bumps on his arms. So, what are we looking for?

There are supposed to be unique identifiers, said Louis, like some have blue-ish stems if you bruise them.

I don’t see any blue stems, he said.

"I know. None of them look like the fucking pictures! Louis crawled on the ground. I’m going to collect some anyway - take home to identify."

Too bad they aren’t like that, said Ian, pointing to a saucer-sized, red mushroom. Do you think you can identify a red, polka-dot mushroom, Lou?

I can! That’s a Muscaria - you can’t mistake it. Look for more, find the little new ones.

They’re all over up here, said Ian, climbing off-trail onto a thick bed of pine needles. Ponderosa pines shaded the steep slope where dozens of red and orange mushrooms grew beside a tangle of fallen trees. Are these for eating? I thought bright color meant danger.

They’re Amanita Muscaria. They aren’t psilocybin, but they are psychoactive. In fact, they’re supposed to taste good. Look, you can read about it yourself.

Ian took the book and sat on the slope. It says these will make you sick.

So does psilocybin…so what, Louis said, crawling up the slope on hands and knees.

Louis, they’re listed under the heading ‘toxic varieties’…it says they produce mild euphoria after a period of nausea…and sometimes cause vomiting, loss of sphincter control and seizures. He stopped reading and looked up at Louis, who couldn’t keep his knees under him on the steep slope. I know this is probably the only mushroom you’re able to identify, Lou, but do you think eating something listed ‘toxic’ is a good idea?

I know they aren’t Death Caps, Louis said. This mushroom inspired ‘Alice in Wonderland’. It’s definitely hallucinogenic, and people use them for cooking, too. They won’t make you sick if they’re prepared right. You’re the cook, Ian - check it out. And, they give a potent high if you eat enough. I’ve read about trippy experiences from other travelers.

Traveler, huh? he said. Is that what you are? He read from the book, It’s also called Fly Agaric and it’s in the same family with Nightshades and Death Caps. It says, ‘It’s easy to distinguish from these killers, but care must be taken as there are imposters.’ Are you sure these are okay, Lou?

Help me collect the rest and we’ll inspect them over a warm fire, okay? Louis was up the slope on a thick layer of pine needles trying not to slide backwards.

Okay, he said, reading more. According to this, we don’t want to make a mistake. The liver can’t process the toxin and crashes, but it takes up to three days. Sometimes, people don’t know what made them sick because they start feeling better, just before it recycles in their system and puts them to sleep - well, a coma actually - one they don’t wake from.

I won’t let you die from a Death Cap, said Louis. I promise.

They’d picked a campsite sheltered by boulders at the tree line near Riggs’ Lake. While Louis inspected his specimens on a flat rock, Ian took in the scene. From the top of the rocks, he could see far beyond the lake to a cluster of buildings - the Mt. Graham International Observatory, nestled in woods of spruce a few miles away.

The Vatican observatory was there, watching the heavens for signals from God, Ian supposed. He imagined the telescope aimed at some distant galaxy under construction by God in a hardhat, the astronomer/priest exclaiming, A-ha! Proof at last!

Louis was Catholic, and when he got spiritual - often because it took only a six-pack - he cited the observatory as evidence his religion accepted hard-edged science. Yet today, over the hill from the science, he sought hallucinogenic enlightenment in the way of the witchdoctor, whose ancient notions of spirituality included human sacrifice and cannibalism. Interesting dichotomy, he thought, but I won’t bring that up to Lou right now.

I’m satisfied the bright, red ones are okay, Louis said, laying six perfectly formed toadstools in a line. Three each, that’s more than enough, we should probably eat only half of these.

Atop the rocks, Ian stood watching wind ruffle the lake’s surface. How do we eat them? he asked.

Uh… Louis hesitated, there’s conflicting info how to do it. Some say its best to dry them first, but we can’t do that here. Some people ball them up and swallow ‘em whole, and others just cook them in butter.

Sautéed in butter sounds better than swallowing whole - why do people do that? Ian asked.

Louis looked in his book. So they vomit the whole, slimy mushroom at once, he said. It’s a mere convenience.

If you don’t choke…that’s like swallowing a sponge. I’ll sauté them, said Ian.

Louis was still reading, and answered absently, Fine with me - you can put them in the omelet if you want, but it means more stuff to eject later. Get this - it says you can drink pee from someone who ate these and get high. In fact, it says if you save your pee, you can get high two, or three more times off the same mushroom.

I’ll eat it and pee for you, said Ian. That’s more sustainable, isn’t it? In fact, I’ve got other bodily fluids I can offer. And if you drink my pee…or anything else, I promise I won’t tell anybody you know, Lou. He broke twigs and piled them in the fire ring. An hour of daylight remained, but he wanted the fire up now, before they ate - lighting it under the influence wouldn’t be prudent.

Louis wiped the mushrooms clean and sliced them while Ian lit the stove and whisked eggs. They sat cross-legged on a tarp next to the fire and occasionally fed it chunks of wood to build it hotter. Ian brought out cheese and green onion he’d earlier chopped and shredded, and stored in plastic bags. He also brought out a bottle of tequila.

Here we go, he said, as butter foamed in the pan. He seasoned and tossed mushrooms and garlic until he got the right golden color, then poured in the eggs. As they cooked, he added cheese and a taste more salt and pepper. When it reached the right firmness - still bubbling and a little runny on top - he slid the fat omelet to a plate, folding to get a crusty side-up, then sprinkled it with onion and cut it in half for Louis’s share. First, a shot of tequila, he said, passing the bottle and then the plate…Bon Appetite!

Surprising how good the mushroom tasted. Hmmm…yum, he said over a mouthful. It had a dark, nutty, robust flavor - perfect with eggs! He saw Louis eat half of his and set his plate down. Aren’t you going to finish? he asked.

It’s delicious. I mean, that is fucking good, Louis said. It’s the best tasting mushroom ever! I want to eat more, but I’ve downed more than one already. I think that’s enough.

I’m eating it then - it’s too good to waste, said Ian, grabbing the quarter omelet like a sandwich.

The book says three mushrooms - max dosage! You had three.

Oops, too late, I ate it, he said, swallowing. The book said these things cause mild euphoria. Maybe a healthy dose will raise it above mild - what do you think?

I think the book says too much will give you a bad trip, said Louis.

Ian felt restless. Three-quarters of an omelet wasn’t enough to fill his stomach; they’d fasted all day anticipating the nausea. Let’s take a walk, he said.

They followed the lakeshore away from camp. Ian, looking up, said, Hey, thunderheads snuck right up behind us. They hadn’t seen the build-up to the east because of the trees. Declaring their presence, the clouds pulsed orange and echoed thunder off the surrounding peaks. It’s going to rain.

The sun began to set in earnest, sending yellow light to reflect off the lowering clouds, turning the sky, the lake, the whole atmosphere golden. Clouds swallowed the observatory, and ragged sheets of it tore away in turbulent winds that sent them skimming through treetops. Ian felt his muscles twitch. He had a funny taste in the back of his throat. How are you feeling, Louis?

I’m good. I have sort of a hollow feeling in my stomach, but it’s not hunger – I’m not hungry anymore. I’m feeling good…just a bit drowsy. Louis sat down on the sand.

Ian noticed his vision didn’t quite match his eye movement, like a slow speed camera blurs a moving object. I just thought of something, he said. We stick up like lightning rods here on the lake-shore. He fell to his knees, doubled over and threw-up.

He was sick a long time, until everything came up. Next to him lay Louis, eyes closed, not aware Ian spewed on his arm. The nausea finally passed, leaving his throat raw and his ribcage sore. He rinsed his mouth, cupping water from the lake, then rolled over on the sand, out of breath and panting. Thunder rumbled, and he could smell, and even taste the tang of ozone in the air.

Watching the clouds roil overhead, the winds rolled a heavy bank of deep purple, edged in iridescence, right on top of him. He could feel the weight of it bearing down, pushing air out of its way as it descended. Birds flew careening through the trees to escape.

Closing his eyes, colors rushed his eyelids, pulsing in patterned waves of fluid, fractal chaos. It was busy…but nice. He could name patterns he recognized - octagons, hexagons, pentagons, mastodons…wait, there’s no theorem for mastodons… A noise rose from the lake: tik-tak-tik-tak - very slow at first, then a rapid: tak-tak-tak! Oh shit, snapping turtles! We better leave, Lou…

He opened his eyes - it was just the rain. He felt it pelt his skin; he could count individual drops. On sixty-six, lightning struck the far shore, throwing him off-count and blasting a lodge pole pine to pieces, showering the water with sparks. Wow – he sure didn’t expect hallucinations like that – these mushrooms are awesome! He lay down, closed his eyes again, and lost all sense of time.

#

Half an hour later, Louis woke feeling refreshed and calm. The light, steady rain felt cool, but the wind was wild, blowing saplings over-double in heavy gusts. The lake churned with windblown waves lapping at their feet. Ian was out cold, lying on his back.

Louis felt fantastic. The storm was wildly surreal, but he didn’t feel threatened. Even the raging winds seemed playful, whipping his clothes and hair about. He could only see halfway across the lake through the sheeting rain. Sun still lit the western horizon; a blood red slash of sky beneath the clouds, but no light penetrated the blackness over his head.

A brilliant shaft of lightning struck a lone stump in the lake thirty feet away. The flash blinded Louis, and the clap of thunder came like a hammer blow, leaving his ears ringing. Water boiled around the flaming stump, hissing and steaming, while a soccer ball of buzzing light danced across the water to Ian, rolling up the shore to touch his feet. Louis watched a blue flame flash over Ian’s body, while tendrils of spark emerged from his right eye, and burst into ball-lightning again, buzzing and dancing across the sand. His hair stood on-end in a glowing green halo of smoke.

The crack of thunder was so loud, so startling, Louis jumped to his feet. Ian, wake up! Get to the tent. Then, unsure about something he needed to think about, he forgot Ian and sat on the sand. If I go in the tent, my clothes will be wet, he thought. And wet clothes equal wet Louis. I have to take them off, he said, pulling his shirt off. Then he stood and removed his pants. Now he could see the water ran off of him better, making him less wet, and he sat down, pleased with himself again.

Ian slept peacefully, so Louis decided not to wake him. Instead, he rolled his head to the side and covered it with a bandana to keep the rain out of his open mouth.

#

To Ian, the flash of pure white light was so violent he wanted to run, but instead he popped off his body like a helium balloon on a broken string; a bubble of consciousness free in the wind. Looking below, he saw himself and Louis on the sand growing smaller, receding away. I’m out of my body, he thought, uh oh! His last glimpse was Louis, kneeling in front of him naked and turning his head towards...hey, what the hell was he doing?

Clouds gathered around, and it made him anxious. They swirled in angry whirlwinds; closing on him, wrapping him in cold, grey steam. Lightning flashed, illuminating the opaque cocoon around him in neon hues. Finally, he reached a patch of clear air where an immense, towering thunderhead still caught the sun’s rays. He tried to will himself back down, but the wind sucked him higher, into the giant cyclone, enveloping him again in grey vapor. When it did, his fear grew into panic.

A hole appeared in the veil. Not a break in the cloud this time, but a yawning orifice of bad intent - he didn’t know how he knew this, but that seemed to be how things worked on the mushroom. Terror seized him as he spiraled in.

Utterly alone, the void closed around him like a coffin sealing shut. He felt himself solidify - crystallizing into an immobile, inanimate thing. He feared time was slowing, and if it stopped, he’d be trapped for infinity like a block of granite.

A clock ticked slowly in front him - its pendulum barely moving. He tried to will it to swing. The second hand clicked slower and slower, until it clicked one last time and everything stopped.

He felt his ribcage shudder - back in his body. Wind whipped around him, but the rain had slacked to a misting drizzle. His forehead swelled - a pressure between his eyes that made a pleasurable, intense tickle - an orgasm in his brain. People he knew flashed through his mind with a fresh perception of their socially acceptable, pointless lives – just like the one he used to have. Wasn’t that what he just escaped being frozen into? Just in time, too. Their connections were broken, he realized, but he was part of the universe – plugged in and buzzing with energy. This is how he wanted to be.

He sat up, washed his face in the lake and then froze - he wasn’t alone. Something lurked in the dark. It wasn’t Louis. Louis he could see in the tent, staring vacantly across the lake. There was something else out there.

GET A LIFE, BOY!

The voice boomed out of the darkness. He wasn’t hallucinating; it came from the trees, so loud it shook his chest.

CHAPTER 2 - LET’S TALK FRY-BREAD

The streetcar hissed to a stop, and Sidney stepped out, shielding her eyes from the glaring sun. It was lunchtime and people were everywhere, milling about the sidewalks, diving into restaurants and bars along Tucson’s Fourth Avenue. She scanned the faces in front of the burger joint where she expected to see her friend. Sid! she heard, and turned.

There you are, Leah – Hi!

Quite a crowd out today, huh, Leah said, hugging Sidney and kissing her cheek. I hope we can get a seat for lunch.

We have to, said Sidney. I’m starving, and this place makes the best burger in town. C’mon, let’s go in.

Leah was Sidney’s new friend, and she wasn’t like any friend Sidney ever had before. Not because she was a decade older, Sidney had lots of friends older than that. Not because she was a doctor, either. It was because Leah was perfect for Ian, Sidney was sure of it.

Why she felt that, she couldn’t put her finger on. Leah acted naïve and shameless at the same time, which was a little confusing. Most older-guys she knew, like her brother and his friends, were not the type for Leah. She had a different feeling about Ian, she had a feeling he’d like her strangeness. She had to find out. Besides, Ian’s last girlfriend dumped him - hard, and he was aimless without female guidance.

They pushed through the doorway crowded with people coming and going. Inside, eyes not yet adjusted to the gloom, she barreled into someone who apparently didn’t have the sense to get out of the way. Sheeze, excuse me please, she said, as she wove her way through, leading Leah by the hand. There, grab that chair, we’re home free. She grabbed a table someone vacated – she actually grabbed it with both hands and claimed it.

You almost knocked that guy over, Sid. Look at him glaring - no don’t look. He’s looking right at you.

Screw him, Sidney laughed. Why is he standing in the doorway like he owns the place, anyway?

I don’t know, but if you want to screw him, here he comes. Leah whispered.

May I help you? asked the man in a polite voice.

Sidney turned - he looked like a businessman on his lunch hour. Why, are you the waiter? she asked.

I’m the owner actually, the waitress will be here in a moment, he said, with emphasis on actually, Are you happy with this table? Can I get you started with something?

Oh, well in that case, I’ll have a Nimbus draft. And I have to tell you…you have the best burgers in town, Sidney replied.

Thank you. You’ve been here before, then, he said.

Oh yeah, I’m a faithful patron, and I always bring my friends.

He said he was glad to hear that, but he didn’t seem to be. After he left, Sidney snickered, You don’t think he’ll mess with our food do you?

He’s the owner, Sid. He won’t mess with a ‘faithful patron.’

The waitress brought pints of beer and menus. Okay, I’ll be nice from now on, said Sidney, grabbing both menus. Leah, treat yourself to an Indian fry-bread burger. It’s so cheesy, meaty, chewy and decadent you won’t get off the couch for the rest of the afternoon.

I can’t lie on the couch, said Leah. I have to let patients lie on my couch.

One burger will put you in a coma, said Sidney. We’ll have to split one. Half a burger won’t do any harm.

Leah acquiesced, Whatever you say. As long as we’re destroying our figures, may as well have another pint, too.

Now you’re talkin’, Sidney waved at the owner who’d resumed his position by the door. Two more Nimbus ales and a fry-bread burger with tots – and an extra plate for the skinny lady next to me, please.

You don’t like to wait around, do you? Leah said.

Nope, Sidney gulped her beer down. I know somebody I want you to meet, Leah.

Uh oh…I knew this wasn’t going to be a free lunch.

No such thing, Doctor, you know that, Sidney said. You hardly know anyone around here - I want to introduce you to some friends.

These aren’t students are they? Leah asked. I mean I love being with you, Sid, but I’m not a twenty-something, anymore. I don’t think I’d fit in with that crowd very well.

No, said Sidney. These are my brother’s buddies. Charlie and his friends are older than you - Charlie is almost forty. One guy I want you to meet is Ian. He’s an architect. He’s been Charlie’s best friend since they were kids, and I grew up around him. He’s like my other big brother. He and Charlie know this area like nobody else, so if you hit it off, maybe he’ll take you places your doctor friends don’t know about.

I don’t have any doctor friends, Leah said. "They’re colleagues. Psychiatrists don’t make good friends - they