IC-Chapter 2-An Occasional Dream(George Beaukouski only)

[Mr. Handy]

Unknown House - Philadelphia, Pennsylvania
11:50 PM - Friday, July 18, 1969

George Kling Beaukouski was stoned out of his mind. In addition to the ubiquitous marijuana, he had dropped some acid, had some shrooms, and taken some things that he didn't even know what they were. He was crashing in the living room of the house of some dude he had met at a concert, lying on the sofa in the darkened living room. As he tossed and turned, a faint glow wormed its way through his eyelids. They came open of their own accord, and he saw a luminscent staircase leading down where he was pretty sure there hadn't been one before. And anyway, they didn't normally glow like that. Or at all, in fact. The stairs were flanked by a pair of stone pillars with white globes on top of them. It was those globes that were the source of the otherworldly light.

[ZeekLen]

George must be tripping he tells himself. It's all just a trick of his subconscious or some extra conscious, maybe he had just been reading to much Carl Jung. But then again, he's had a lot of fun exploring while tripping in the past. Just as long as he does not end up in a drainage pipe like last time he tells himself as he moves toward this strange glowing stairway.

[Mr. Handy]

George reached the top of the stairs. Peering down, he could see that they seemed to stretch on forever, but after a while they were obscured by a strange white mist. Though he knew it should be dark down there, the mist seemed to be luminiscent as well, providing enough light to see by should he venture down there.

[ZeekLen]

Wow... What a trip... (he gives a low whistle and chuckles to himself.) ...and to think, Peter The Scumbag usually has crap acid...

[Mr. Handy]

The mist swirled, as if beckoning George down the mysterious stairway.

[ZeekLen]

George awkwardly floats down the stairway the way only someone deep in an acid trip can.

[Mr. Handy]

The stairs seemed to go on forever. George lost count of how many there were. The mist kept him from seeing more than a few feet in front of him. The walls on either side of him were solid rock.

Eventually, he reached the bottom of the stairs. Ahead of him, barely visible through the obscuring mist, was a pair of massive wrought iron gates in a Gothic style. Flanking the gates to each side, a pair of glowing red eyes peered out of the whiteness at him.

[ZeekLen]

George pauses for a moment. Examining the gate and eyes. He briefly contemplates his next move then shuffles forward a few feet to try and get a better look at the gate.

[Mr. Handy]

As George got closer to the gates, he could make out intricate designs in the ironwork. They were easily ten feet tall, towering over him. There did not appear to be a locking mechanism or even handles, but he got the impression that he could not simply push them open.

"HALT!" boomed a voice coming from the direction of the pair of eyes on the left. "He who would pass through this gate...must first answer these questions twenty-eight!"

"He's not going to understand the reference," said a voice from the eyes on the right in a more normal tone of voice. "It's too soon. Even if it weren't, it's rather obscure."

"SILENCE! When it's your turn to ask the questions, you can do it your way. This one is mine." The eyes on the left looked directly at George. "What is your name?"

[ZeekLen]

George pauses. His mind races past a thousand black rainbows and a world of bismuth but his name escapes him completely. He's beginning to peak on the acid and it has been quiet some time since anyone has called him George K. Beaukouski... "Cheese Burger"

[Mr. Handy]

"What is your quest?" demanded the voice.

[ZeekLen]

George pauses again. This time for a couple of moments. "To find out where the stairs... where the stairs went!?" He said this in a confused manner realizing halfway through that his last "Quest" in his mind had been to see where the stairs lead but he now found himself in a place with no stairs at all... No way to get back. No way to take this answer more seriously, for he had already spoken.

[Mr. Handy]

George could no longer see the stairs through the enshrouding mist, but whether or not that meant they were no longer there was beyond his drug-addled reason - or perhaps the drugs had now opened his mind so that the question became deeper. In any case, the questioner seemed satisfied.

"What...is your favorite color?" it continued.

[ZeekLen]

"Green" said George. That was an easy one he thought.

[Mr. Handy]

"Do you like cats?" inquired the voice.