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The Fucking Blow Your Mind

Most people I know regret the things they did. Fry, who we all knew had something wrong with him, had killed a man. He had enough human in him to regret it. Mutt, who was too loud and too fast and too much, was fucking a married woman. And her husband. That was his regret. Even Squito, who mostly stayed quiet and calm, had done something to regret. He would leave late at night to drink, despite his wife and kids who thought he was sober.
But I wasn’t like that. Most people I know regret the things they did. I regret the things I haven’t.
It started when Mutt and I had been smoking something he’d gotten somewhere.
“This is top notch shit, big time, the good stuff, the great stuff, the fucking blow your mind and make you religious kind of shit,” he kept going, on and on. All of his words just blended into noises that my mind moved to the background. This shit wasn’t anything special. I’d had better.
“Mutt,” I interrupted, passing it back to him to shut him up, “why do you do the things you …