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oh brother, where art thou Heady Epic...


PassedOutGuy

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Yeah, I know where Heady Epic is. Regretfully.

He re-appeared into my life about three weeks ago. He bursted thru my front door one evening rather unexpectedly, muttering unintelligible gibberish about nothing particularly discernible. He appeared all wigged out, disheveled, and destitute, which on its own was not strange given the subject we're dealing with. However things turned from strange to downright really strange when he looked at me, appeared to bow, and lunged straight under my futon by doing a perfectly executed half triple-double somersault. He's been there since.

I've been trying to lure him out with promises of hits of acid, burritos, and some long lost Grateful Dead master recordings from their 1977 tour, but the wook won't come out. I suspect that he feeds on the Doritos, trail mix, and other crumbs found behind the futon which in retrospect have made me regret my poor housekeeping skills.

I fear for my future. The smell in my apartment is becoming intolerable and neighbours are starting to complain about the stench emanating from my abode. My girlfriend left me. My dogs left me. My plants all died. I can't wash the smell off of my clothes and get mocked frequently by the children at my job at Chucky Cheese. I implore anyone who can contact Heady Epic, whether through telephony or telepathy, to please do so otherwise I will be forced to abandon my household and it's not even festival season yet.

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