The Tale of Jimmy Jay’s Psychedelic Possum Trip
A tale conjured up by Martin B with a shit pile of help from an A.I. Robot that goes by the name of "Rhonda G. Blevins".
It was a hot Saturday afternoon when Jimmy Jay decided to spice up his day with something a little... unconventional. He sat in his cluttered living room, surrounded by vintage records, lava lamps, and posters of bands from the 60s. He had just popped a hit of acid, a decision that seemed perfectly reasonable at the time. As he lay back on his sagging couch, he picked up his old turntable needle and dropped it on one of his favorite tracks: “The Time Has Come” by The Chambers Brothers.
As the soulful groove of the song filled the room, Jimmy felt his mind start to stretch like taffy. The beat pulsed through his veins, and each note seemed to have a color of its own. The clock on the wall was melting, and the carpet turned into a sea of psychedelic swirls. Jimmy was deep into his trip, his mind floating through space and time, when suddenly, everything shifted.
Jimmy’s vision blurred, and the walls around him morphed into a dense forest. The couch sprouted leaves, his coffee table turned into a tree stump, and his trusty slippers grew into mushrooms. The song was still playing, but it now echoed like it was coming from a distant galaxy. That’s when it hit him—Jimmy wasn’t just having a trip. He was becoming something... something small, furry, and with an unsettling amount of tail.
Jimmy looked down and saw his hands had transformed into tiny, clawed paws. His reflection in the TV screen revealed that he was no longer Jimmy Jay, average guy; he was now Jimmy Jay, the opossum. Complete with beady eyes, a ratty tail, and a sudden instinct to rummage through trash cans. “What... what happened to me?” he thought. “I’m a possum!” But not just any possum—he was a groovy possum, a possum that felt the rhythm deep in his soul. He scurried around his “forest” of a living room, swaying his little opossum hips to the beat.
Mid-trip, Jimmy spotted a bag of chips on the counter. The bag looked like it contained the answers to the universe. “Snack time!” his possum brain squeaked, and he scurried up to grab it. But as he tore into the bag, a voice boomed from above. It was the ghostly apparition of one of The Chambers Brothers, floating in his kitchen, wearing a neon headband and an outfit made of stars.
“You’re running out of time, Jimmy!” the apparition said. “You gotta find your way back, possum boy!”
Jimmy, now in full possum panic mode, darted under the table. He tried to speak, but all that came out was a series of panicked possum squeaks. He scurried around his living room jungle, climbing lamp trees and hiding under couch rocks. Every second felt like an eternity, and Jimmy was sure he was stuck like this forever—a groovy, trash-digging opossum.
As the song reached its final “Time!” chorus, the room began to spin like a record on the fastest speed setting. Jimmy’s possum form twisted and turned, and with one last flip, he was hurled back into his human body, lying on his living room floor, tangled in his old blanket like it was a possum nest.
Jimmy sat up, blinking at his familiar surroundings. The clock was back on the wall, the coffee table was just a coffee table, and his hands were—thankfully—hands again. The Chambers Brothers’ song had ended, and the room was quiet except for Jimmy’s heavy breathing. He looked around, making sure his tail was gone. “Man,” he muttered, “that was wild.”
From that day on, Jimmy Jay couldn’t hear “The Time Has Come” without feeling an overwhelming urge to raid the fridge. But whenever he did, he’d smile, remembering that one time he became the funkiest possum in town.
