felix
Bluelight Crew
- Joined
- Apr 30, 2005
- Messages
- 38,249
After voraciously perusing the vaults of Erowid, I came to the conclusion that the time was right to sample this fabled substance.
I first ate a hearty meal of mince, tatties, and mealy-puddings, cooked as always by my lovely wife of 37 years, Marjorie.
After the meal I took our two labradors out for our usual evening constitutional around the village square, thus giving my food a chance to settle and, of course, providing some exercise and fresh air to Albert (golden) and Alfred (chocolate brown).
So after waiting impatiently for Marjorie to finally fall into Morpheus's sweet embrace, I retired to my study and locked the door behind me, as always.
I unlocked my antique writing desk and carefully removed my vial of gamma-butyrolactone. I had procured this substance from some ne-er do wells in a somewhat less-than-salubrious area of our metropolis.
With a steady hand, I carefully measured out exactly 1.2ml into my (unusually) empty opium receptacle. I mixed it with some weak lemon drink and drank it down quickly, in much the same manner as those young ruffians do in their so-called drinking dens.
I sat back in my leather Parker Knoll recliner, relaxed, and awaited the onset.
After approximately 10 minutes I sensed a not-unpleasant warmth in my belly, as well as my legs. The effects wore off after approximately 30 minutes. I sat for some time in the warm afterglow, thoughtfully integrating the experience and pondering the insights this substance afforded me.
I very carefully locked up my precious paraphernalia and crept upstairs to the the marital bedroom suite. I snuggled into bed next to my lovely wife Marjorie and, despite some very insistent knocking at her back door, she continued to feign sleep. So on that note, gentle reader, I bid you goodnight.
I trust that my tale finds you in good health, and that you found it instructive and educational.
Marjorie and the boys send their love.
xxx
I first ate a hearty meal of mince, tatties, and mealy-puddings, cooked as always by my lovely wife of 37 years, Marjorie.
After the meal I took our two labradors out for our usual evening constitutional around the village square, thus giving my food a chance to settle and, of course, providing some exercise and fresh air to Albert (golden) and Alfred (chocolate brown).
So after waiting impatiently for Marjorie to finally fall into Morpheus's sweet embrace, I retired to my study and locked the door behind me, as always.
I unlocked my antique writing desk and carefully removed my vial of gamma-butyrolactone. I had procured this substance from some ne-er do wells in a somewhat less-than-salubrious area of our metropolis.
With a steady hand, I carefully measured out exactly 1.2ml into my (unusually) empty opium receptacle. I mixed it with some weak lemon drink and drank it down quickly, in much the same manner as those young ruffians do in their so-called drinking dens.
I sat back in my leather Parker Knoll recliner, relaxed, and awaited the onset.
After approximately 10 minutes I sensed a not-unpleasant warmth in my belly, as well as my legs. The effects wore off after approximately 30 minutes. I sat for some time in the warm afterglow, thoughtfully integrating the experience and pondering the insights this substance afforded me.
I very carefully locked up my precious paraphernalia and crept upstairs to the the marital bedroom suite. I snuggled into bed next to my lovely wife Marjorie and, despite some very insistent knocking at her back door, she continued to feign sleep. So on that note, gentle reader, I bid you goodnight.
I trust that my tale finds you in good health, and that you found it instructive and educational.
Marjorie and the boys send their love.
xxx
Last edited:
Who hasn't been there 
