You're all going to die!

I was on my way to work riding the B-Line down Granville St. and just dreading the thought of working another shift at the Pita Pit. I had been working there for about 3 months, only 1 day of which I had showed up sober. So keeping with tradition I had dropped some acid 30 minutes prior. Of course, when you consider my luck, the bus I was riding decides to catch fire. Smoke billowed out from under the bench seat on the back and everyone started yelling and scrambled to get off the bus. We all pile out onto the sidewalk and watch a hydraulic line burst and spray into the gutter, which happed to be right in front of all the curious spectators. Luckily I was standing off to the side and remained unscathed.
So after seeing that I decide I was good with not getting on a bus for a while. I had my long board with me and decided it was best if I just rolled across the Granville St. bridge. I get going and about halfway across I realize it is fucking freezing. One of those blastedly cold days where you can see every star and it feels like the atmosphere is disappearing. So with that image in my mind I roll downtown.
I had about 5 blocks left to go and it seemed every cop in the city had come out in force. They were going door to door to tell all the homeless people sleeping on the porches that they needed to get inside or they would freeze to death. So with yet another great idea put into my head I arrive at work.
I usually could do my job completely blasted and in fact had almost always done it completely blasted. But for some strange reason, probably having something to do with the two hits of acid I was on, I couldn’t get my thoughts in a straight enough line to work. So I settled with opening and closing the meat drawer next to the grill. As I happily opened and closed my drawer, feeling proud of my abilities to be independent and work responsibly, the line behind me was growing. My co-worker was doing her best to manage the line and yet even with my exemplary abilities she was unable to do so. I of course, being the senior man on the job, was not pleased with this. So I went into the back and called my manager to tell her what a bad job my co-worker was doing. I told her how the line was growing and that nothing she could do would get it go to away. How she was being lazy and not doing her job properly. I also included an explanation of how hard I was working. I chose not to mention the fact I was on two hits of acid and spent the last 30 mins opening and closing a drawer. I didn’t feel it was relevant. This of course pissed my boss off to no end and she demanded to speak to my co-worker. I handed her the phone and watched her facial expressions as she was promptly fired over the phone.
She didn’t take her sudden loss of employment seriously, which was probably for the best. Because right after that phone call I started to peak. I resumed opening and closing my drawer while watching the traffic outside. To my shock and surprised I saw a B-Line bus drive down Granville followed by two cop cars. Being a pedestrian my whole life I had intimate knowledge of the bus system in Vancouver. I knew that no B-Lines ever ran down the downtown Granville strip. So the only logical conclusion I could come up with at the time was that people outside were rioting and that they stole the bus. The police cars in pursuit were just trying to quell the sudden uprising. I contemplated the reason why people would be rioting and realized that the atmosphere was disappearing. It was the end of the world, we would all freeze to death, and everyone was rioting!
With this sudden realization I noticed the big line of people behind me and immediately saw through their scheme. They were coming into the Pita Pit to be warm before we all died. Again responsibility fell upon my shoulders. Being the senior man at the Pita Pit was a difficult task and I knew this would be no exception. They could not come in here to die. So I told them so.
“You cant come in here to die! You all have to leave! The shop is closed! Everyone out, you can't come in here to die!” I implored.
Unfortunately their sense of reason was not operating as efficiently as mine and they looked at me like I was a raving mad man. This might have been because I was, but I didn’t let that little fact stop me.
“Everyone out! You're all going to die! Don’t come in here to die!”
“Are you alright?” One customer asked me.
Of course I was not all right! Everyone was about to die and all these people could think about was them selves. If they were going to die, they would damn well do it outside. “No I am not alright!” I explained.
This of course made me realize that I really wasn’t alright. In fact, I was in immediate distress. So much so that, like anyone in such distress would do, I began to hyperventilate. I took this as the beginning signs of a heart attack and figured the best course of action would be to call an ambulance. I picked up the phone and dialled 911.
“Police ambulance or fire?” The operator on the other end of the line prompted.
“I’m going to die!” I responded with a collected calm, which to the untrained ear might have sounded like a panicked yell.
“Hold on sir, you will be alright, I’ll transfer you.”
After the regular questions (having been to the hospital more than once) I knew help was on the way. They arrived in record time, being 4 blocks away, and carted me off in a stretcher to my chariot blinking red and white.
The ambulance ride was eventful. The paramedic soon deduced that I was tripping balls on acid and proceeded to calm me down.
“You have to be careful with that kind of stuff. I know what your going through. I used to do all that back when I was younger. You just have to remember, nothing is real.”
“You bastard…” I responded as my mind delved into an introspective nightmare based on the fact nothing truly existed and that everything was only a dream. “Why would you say that to me right now?”
They took me into ER, hooked me up to a saline drip, and pumped me full of vitamins. After about 45 mins I began to come down to everyone else’s level. I was getting ready to get up and go home when I had my first and only visitor, my boss.
She was none to pleased about the show I put on in her establishment. She yelled and raved at me for a while demanding explanations. These were easy to give as I had just come down off two hits of acid, and I told her so. She rebuked me and told me that I need to cut that stuff out. I whole heartedly agreed in hopes of keeping the job that allowed me to be blitzed for 3 months straight. I gave a heart felt apology and with a full helping of remorse. She took my wrong doings and subsequent apology in stride and decided to allow me to keep my job. I went home and slept for two days.
The things I learned about this experience was that I shouldn’t do acid at work, and that my boss was really stupid for letting me keep my job.