As the evening went on I was pretty proud that no one had a bad trip and that I pretty much kept track of everybody. Jordan was arranging tea sets and taking pictures, I carved a jack-o-lantern to look like it was puking out its pumpkin guts…
That was of course until Scott threw open our front door and it slammed against the living room wall.
“What is happening to me?” He shouted, slurring. “I can’t get drunk!”
Oh no. Scott.
Apparently I had not noticed that soon after eating the scones Scott had left and went to a couple keggers around the neighborhood. I guess he had been drinking all night and in his heightened or elevated mental state he became under the impression that alcohol was having no effect on him. Obviously I felt bad. I still do. As he stood in the front doorway Jordan and I quickly explained that there were mushrooms in the scones. As soon as the information sunk in he leaned back against the corner of the wall, slid down until he was sitting, and promptly fell asleep or passed out.
Other than what happened to Scott, and that this weasel kid sneaked in and stole the rest of the scones, the party was a success.