Monkey Darwin is a curious monkey. One day he decided to experiment with a fancy new psychedelic drug. He soon found his thoughts roaming outside of their usual spaces. For instance, his thought balloon attached itself to the wall and wouldn't come off for several minutes.

Monkey Darwin had experimented with drugs before, but only the addictive sort. He did a hardcore dose of espresso once, and didn't stop jittering for days, until the bugs came out and sang him to sleep. It was awful.

Visual effects set in. He thought for a moment that he was meeting Mr. Satansman, but he quickly figured out that it was his own reflection in his bedroom mirror. Except, it seemed his reflection was a lot more on fire than he was. "Mr. Satansman, get the crap out of this monkey's trip," the reflection said, and faded.

The weird pile didn't stop from getting taller. 8^Y Monkey Darwin felt the natural numbers exude from his scalp, dripping from their birth. The aurora borealis and a natural gas vent made love on his skull and gave birth to a new kind of plasma.

Sounds were a wave that compressed as it approached, forming a wall of sound energy that no meaning could breach.

Language was a loose spiral that sometimes drew dicks on the wall.

Indeed did many things come to pass.

Monkey Darwins were happening all over the place, on different timelines all becoming and unbecoming each other, merging and flapping in and out of existence. One of those guys is a terrible villain! But all I can do about it is to not become him.

Hey wow, one of them is a Buddha. "Hey, Monkey Buddha! Did you know I'm a different you? Oh, I guess you did. Om, an' stuff."

One of them is an embarrassed baby.

Hey! One of my alternate timeline selves is poking me on the head!

As Monkey Darwin thought things seemed to be settling down, he tried to make a drug joke to a passing trip creature. The supervising mushrooms were confused, and the trip creature exuberated on.

Monkey Darwin found himself in a boring ordinary room with nothing but a boring ordinary electrical outlet. Or did he?

He peeked through the smiley face of the electrical outlet and saw the moon, the stars, and what he thought might be the planet Mars, which rules over fire and war.

The influence of Martian astrology turned Monkey Darwin into a dragon. More confusingly, it turned a dragon into Monkey Darwin. It took them a while to get sorted out who was supposed to have scales, and things like that.

Coming off of the dragon enchantment, Monkey Darwin found himself spending some time as a pink fluffy alien with bug eyes and lots of bright pink tendrils coming out of various parts of his anatomy. It was kind of interesting, but his ears kept trying to wriggle away.

The burning fear of the Satansphere took shape as a billion souls, and the smoke from their eyes and the sound of their cries caught fire from the coals of Mr. Satansman's lies ....

The damned souls were moral train-wrecks; and in the middle of each smoldering wreckage, he could perceive the faint glimmering of a living consciousness, somewhere under all the smoke and pain and haze and hatred.

"Mr. Satansman has got to go," reflected tripping Monkey Darwin.

Time and space exchanged their place and the smoke was a binary stream. Shoots and roofs and diagonal proofs sat fizzing in the sun, while a jellyfish run and an alien pun broke through the haze of a donut glaze and the tentacles slipped through ways between a green soybean and the blessings of the hells that won.

As the green grass rose under monkey toes and the rain was just everyday wet, an angel of universal love appeared in bliss from the deep abyss of the trip waves fading yet.

"Hello Monkey Darwin," radiated the angel. "Which way to reality?"

"Oh! Right this way, I'm heading there myself!"