Time travel when pissed.

This phenomenon is new to me. I mean I’ve lost time when under the influence; usually waking many hours later with an imprint of the newspaper on my face. Or waking suddenly only to seamlessly continue masticating the peanut I’d popped in an hour earlier. But this was different. A friend and I had spent an evening supping liquor and conquering the world. Far reaching topics had been covered such as: soup, dado rails and how irritating it is when a toe pops through your tights. I was telling a particularly funny anecdote about removing the lint from the filter of the tumble dryer when it happened. I felt a popping sensation then suddenly there I was de-feathering a wood pigeon wearing a servants attire in a ruddy scullery no less? I spent three hours butchering twelve birds and peeled one hundred turnips before a further pop and I was back in the room. My friend was still sitting right in front of me though she now concentrating very hard on balancing two Babybels atop a Ritz cracker. I immediately launched into my time travel story. Unimpressed she informed me that I’d done nothing more than become vacant and extremely ‘windy’ which we both agreed would account for the popping sensation. Either way for me it was a spiritually enlightening experience. I am currently writing a thesis on the potential for time travel after ingestion of Kahlúa, Blue cheese and cured meats…

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