You walk past a willow, and out in a clearing see a vast herd of people having a very good time, dancing energetically to hip-hop. You don't particularly enjoy that
sort of music but everyone seems to be having such a great time you want a closer look.
The people doing the dancing look like a well-heeled crowd. Rich college kids you think, the sort of preppies who reside in Abercrombie and Fitch catalogues. A
punch bowl is off to one side. You're about to take a drink.
A hand claps your back. You whirl around to see a poker-faced man in a pork-pie hat. He speaks in a whiskey and cigarettes rasp.
"Mister, I don't know how you got here but you leave now. I'm going to be frank with you. If you drink that punch bad things are going to happen to your body. I
have a quarrel with these poeple, and you're not part of it. So scram. Now."
Suddenly one of the party-goers collides with the man. He falls and knocks you over. You sit up to find the punch splattered all over you. A frisbee is sitting on
your chest. "Sorry man" says the party-goer, a barefoot teenaged boy, as he picks up his frisbee.
"That's it!" says the porkpie-hatted man in anger, as grabs a wooden stick from under his hat and points it at the young man. He drops his frisbee and clutches his
chest. You see hair starting to sprout on his toes, which are elongating. His body is writhing. Suddenly his shirt bursts into pieces as he frantically asks "w-w-what's
happening to me.."
You don't wait to find out, but run as fast as you can. You unconciously wipe your hand on your mouth and then ask yourself in horror, did I just drink some of the
punch? What effect will a little bit have? Or maybe I didn't..
You pause to take it all in..