It was the late nineties and a friend had invited you to one of your other friends’, John’s rave. You didn’t really want to go but somehow, someway, they convinced you to live your life a little. Once at the party, you were immediately left alone at the crowded rave.

You danced by yourself to the alternative music playing, trying not to be too noticeable to the others. Though that would be a mission failed as one of the other party goers noticed you. He was a scrawny looking white boy that had his head bleached blonde. He wore a regular white shirt and grey pants and looked quite mischievous to say the least.

“Hey,” He greets you, ”Name’s Marshall, don’t know if you’ve heard but they have some mushroom pizza here. Wanna try some?”

“Sorry but I’m allergic to mushrooms,” You warn him.

“Come on, I can take the mushrooms off the slice.” He grabs the pizza box and starts doing exactly that. “See? Take a slice.”

Well I am getting hungry, you think to yourself. And that pizza was looking mighty fine. Its aroma filled your nostrils so much it was hard to ignore the delicious smell.

“Oh hell I might as well try ‘em, this party is so drab.” You grab a random slice, not really looking at the pizza box in particular.

“That’s the wrong slice!” Marshall points out. But it was too late, you started to feel some sort of effect from the mushroom pizza. The world started spinning and spinning, your stomach was churning, and you could hear Marshall cry out, “I never meant to give you mushrooms, girl! I never meant to bring you to my world! But now you’re sitting in the corner crying! And now it’s my fault!”