A Renaissance Nightmare

Everyone enters the tent, and you set your backpack next to you while you open the zipper to pull out your grinder and purple kush. As you open the backpack, you remember your honey Jack and pass the handle around to share. You take a swig as it comes your way, shake off the burn, and start rolling a blunt out of a cigarillo you brought with you. Your friends unload their stuff too, and you have a pipe and a bong in rotation as well. You spark the blunt. A wave of purple overwhelms your mouth and then slides down into your lungs. You take another hit, a larger one this time, and cough out the kush that starts to invade your brain. The blunt gets passed around until it starts to burn your fingertips, then you put it out in the grass outside and stretch your legs. Man, that purple kush was some good shit. Your guy said he got it from Colorado, but you’re so high it feels like he got it from outer space. The sensation tingles in your toes, and your ears start to tighten up from the sound of yelling in the distance. It looks like the bonfire has started. So has the annual strip Jenga game. The festival has officially ended and a new party is being born at the campgrounds.
“I feel goooood,” Chuck says. “Let’s go check out the bonfire,” and she grabs her tambourine.
“No let’s go for a walk in the woods,” Noraa replies, and he starts heading off in that direction.

Your senses are heightened. You’re so excited about everything going on, you don’t know what you want to do first. The bonfire is nice, but you didn’t bring a tambourine so you have nothing to bang on. The woods are tempting, but kind of scary. Then, of course, you could always suggest watching strip Jenga as an alternate, that way everyone stays together.