A long time ago, in a land far, far away, there was a magical musican/writer named Travis.
And he lived in a big castle, all the way up in the pent-house. And all of his friends lived in the floors below him, and listened to his wonderful music, and published all of the things he wrote.
Everyone was happy living there, and every week they had huge raves in the castle basement. And there were strobe lights, candy pacifiers, and glow sticks, and it was good.
But one day, a big dark cloud drifted over the castle. Thunder shook the stones, and the power went out. Things got very dark, and everyone looked out at the cloud. On top of it, was the Republican Party.
They were mean, nasty, and generally terrible. They had big ears, small brains, and didn't know how to use proper grammar, much to the dismay of our protagonist friend. The sent down black cloaked DEA officers, and they stoped all of the raves. And then they sent down old republican men, and cops, to stop all of the loud, but awesome, music.
The Republican party cloud stayed over the castle for weeks and weeks, and soon no one in the house was happy, and no one was allowed to smile. But Travis was up in his penthouse, when he came up with an idea!
He gathered all of his closest friends, and all of their closest friends, and they talked in whispers down in the no longer rave-y basement. Travis said excitedly, "I know how to reinstill the fun! But it will take work from us all. Work, and lung capacity".
All of the friends scurried like mouses, and gathered up their secret stash of weed. Quietly, they converged upstairs in Travis's pent-house. Everyone stood in a circle, solumnly, and packed up their bowls with as much weed as they could fit into it. Then, as one, they all pulled out their hot-pink Bic lighters, and took a mass collective hit.
They held it in, until they couldn't hold it anymore, and then they blew all of the smoke out the windows, toward the cloud. They continued with this, till everyone had gone through 3 or 4 bowls by themself.
Suddenly, a noise came from outside. Everyone crained their necks to the window, and the sound grew more distinct. It was a sound of laughing and coughing, coming from the sky. The Republican Party was high!
The DEA agents came back down, and put all of the rave equipment back into place, and started pumping music through the speakers. The cloud drifted down, and everyone, even the police and the old men, started rave-dancing in the basement.
The rave went on for a respectable time... namely, three entire days. When everyone had finally gotten sick of the cheesy techno rave music, they turned it off, and smoked up all the friends with weed from previous drug busts. When everyone was again sufficiently stoned, the Republicans attempted to go back to their cloud, but found that it had turned into purple haze!
Everyone lit up again, and blew smoke into the haze. When it was finally thick enough to lift the entire no-longer-Republican party, everyone waved and smiled and hugged eachother. The cops promised to never ever bust anyone for posession ever again, and the legislatures promised to legalize all natural substances.
When everyone finished waving, and smiling, and hugging, they all went back into the house, and listened to more of Travis's awesome music. And they all lived happily ever after.
The End.
-Megan Elaine.
