Mr. Kool-Aid’s Lost Weekend
Mr. Kool-Aid struts down the street, boombox blasting Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five.
The burned out flesh and bones that was the sixties is sprawled out against the railing of its seventy-fourth floor balcony. As the last thread of consciousness breaks, several sheets of acid slip out of its grasp and fall straight into Mr. Kool-Aid’s top as he is breakdancing for a group of school kids.
Oooh yeeah, he says.
Seventy-four-hours later, one for every floor the acid dropped, Mr. Kool-Aid wakes up in a cell with Zack Galifinakis.
They chat for a few moments and then Mr. Kool-Aid bursts through the wall, running off, his voice echoing in the distance: