"One pill makes you larger, and one pill makes you small," the music in the background was low and somber like a tribal hymn. Johnny was on cloud nine that night. "And the ones that mother gives you don't do anything at all," the memories started coming back, one line at a time, "Go ask Alice, when she's ten feet tall."

"I remember when you belonged to me, Johnny! We used to be better than this, you used to be better than this!" I screamed out loud to him.

The music was still playing, picking up tempo. "When the men on the chessboard get up and tell you where to go..." Puff. "And you've just had some kind of mushroom, and your mind is moving slow..." Puff. "Go ask Alice, I think she'll know..." Pass.

Alice always knows. She always did, she always will. Fighting this battle I'll never win. "Johnny," whimpering now, "I remember when you belonged to me, and not the girls we call Ecstasy and LSD."

"...Remember what the Dormouse said..." The music fades out, along with the better half of my mind. Inhale... exhale. Watching the smoke dance on the ceiling, this is our last song. Inhale... exhale.

"You could've belonged to me if you wanted too... they make take you place I never can, but..." Inhale, exhale. Que dizziness and a series of blacking out. "Remember what the Dormouse said." Fade out, end the scene. Tell me this isn't my life. Inhale, exhale.