Down the Rabbit Hole

After chewing the mushroom rather laboriously you spend several minutes wondering if you have just poisoned yourself. You pinch your forearm gently to reassert yourself. Everything will be fine, probably.


You walk into the darkness of the rabbit hole, wondering what you could possibly find in such an unlikely place. As you walk you begin to hear the soothing tinkling of tiny bells and voices lilting with pieces of advice.


There are a lot of things you are unsure about here.


In some places there is more room for not knowing.


Fly high little bunny. Nothing negative.


Groping, you contort the complacencies of the distance between the prophecies.

Grabbing your knees, you farnticulate spagency of the happenstance of the queen’s litany.

Harmgrabutating, confarciously fronticulating a hembern shrongifron.


Druswelthean far’nipit carntraguless hushemscheiser de veisergeisser

De lempklen blobbenjeissser

Cram lawn the derigi’dingdong?

Felharm guh hum nobbin schtoplin?

Ooorm de hoof groblinknoblin!


Kerash te ban flash enhaffin grabblin

Estash de man bash curmuffin stabbin

Horrrndiggly mash en spaffenbrabblin

Or westen his hash for flaffenbrattin


Wez frippin de gruit for almost

Cantoppibating se contralficating de conversituationalmutlifacetal








Yes. You’ve got it now.


You’ve passed through the rabbit hole and on the other side you see a world made of gigantic mushrooms. Mushrooms as skyscrapers. Mushrooms as cruise ships. Mushrooms as habbledimgrapplers.


A flock of five chickens pauses to stand straight up and look at you. Instinctively, your throat begins clucking at them. “Hup hup con cackle de flap” you hear yourself say. They lower their heads and begin tearing the grasses from the mushroom battalion.


One of them has a dark red comb that flops to the left of her head. Without looking up she says “Don’t be ridiculous. Not even recockulous! We will not hear anymore of your gibberish-imictation.”


Passing by them you see a yellow and red stream flowing from a purplonigator. You don’t even know what that means but here it is right in front of you. It seems to say, through the reflected morass of bead curtains, “This is a place for experimental thoughts, for wild narrative, for exploration and curiosity and exultation.”


And in small letters beneath the mushroom fandiculous but prepended in the sort of hanjin cursive that often accompanies a hestle of pestles, it says “Don’t fuck this up.”


*Bizarre, non-sequitur, gibberish, and or experimental narratives


You can return to Choose your own adventure

You can walk through the trees to a Campsite

Or you can investigate the Vines Leading to the Forest Canopy