I was in rehab with a guy in his early twenties. His name was Nick. He was covered head to toe with tattoos, one side of his face was permanently discolored from being pronounced "legally dead", for four minutes. Nick had some pretty amazing stories, all revolving around his toxic escapades and reckless lifestyle. One of Nick's most predominantly entertaining stories was a tale of one of his friends (we'll call him Ed) who befriended an imaginary Kool- Aid guy. Before letting Ed into his parents house, he would ask him if he was with the Kool-Aid guy. Ed would look down over his shoulder and pretend not to see him.
Nick told me when Ed was with the Kool-Aid guy, he was serious trouble to be around. Ed's twist consisted of Acid, MDMA, and Mescaline. There was something about this lethal combination that would always send Ed over the edge. When under the influence ED would do things like steal the front door of your parents house (when nobody was looking), and go running naked down the street screaming that someone was trying to kidnap the Kool-Aid guy.
Another interesting thing Ed would do when the Kool-Aid guy was around, was "calling shotgun" for the Kool-Aid guy with a friend's car full of people. What was funny behavior at first gradually turned cumbersome.
Nick was into junk, dirt bikes, and women. He checked out against medical advise twelve days into rehab, due to the fear that his probation officer would find him and book him, mainly due to ongoing warrants and non-compliance,
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