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The Call - Fourteen contraption that stood in the center of the table. It looked like a metallic octopus, with tubed tendrils coming out from a central urn-shaped device. The people in the room were smil- ing but unusually quiet, and every so often Ted watched one of them pick up a tube and inhale deeply from its tip. He wondered what they were doing, but he didn’t ask any ques- tions, not wanting to appear ignorant. Ted truly had no clue to these activities, having never been exposed to such things, including marijuana, but when one of his acquaintances waved him over and said, “Why don’t you have a hit?” Ted joined in. He took the tube, put it to his mouth, and filled his lungs in a deep inhalation. He sat there a few moments, waiting expectantly, but nothing hap- pened. The atmosphere was so happy and loving, though, that Ted sat back to enjoy it all. The others apparently were feel- ing no pain, and Ted decided that he just hadn’t done it prop- erly. Trying again, Ted drew on the hookah again, sucking like a Hoover. And again, he couldn’t tell any difference. The people with him, however, noticed a definite change. Ted was deep in conversation with someone, and then, in the middle of a sentence, his face suddenly froze in a strange grin. Twenty minutes later, Ted still hadn’t finished the sen- tence. Finally his friend gently propped Ted back against the wall and wandered away. “Who’s that guy with the perpetual grin?” Ted heard someone ask later, but he was too far gone to respond. The daze continued, and sometime after three in the morning, Ted felt himself being lifted from the floor and maneuvered outside. The party was over, he was told, and it was time to go home. First, however, he had to find his car, a huge Buick he had borrowed from his father. With the help of his friends, Ted’s car was located and he was crammed inside. His family’s home was only a few blocks away, but Ted was having a problem with his vision. His perspective was all wrong, and so was his sense of motion. Even walking seemed to be done at a breakneck speed. When he started up the car, it was impossible for him to Masquerade of Angels 130 The Call - Fourteen control the machine. Even the slightest, delicate touch of his foot to the gas pedal made the car shoot forward in a blur of speed. So like a good defensive driver, he kept one foot on the brake as he tapped the gas with the other. Fearfully he backed up and headed for the street, but every time he pumped the gas the car would explode out from under him. He couldn’t understand why the speedometer read only five miles per hour when he was certain he must be breaking the speed limit. Working his way out the driveway and down the street, Ted paid very close attention to his steering. He passed by large, old homes on spacious lots, wending his way home, and just ahead he saw the street onto which he needed to turn. He circled the steering wheel and gunned the engine, only to find himself heading straight up a private driveway in a head-on collision course with the garage at its end. He had mistaken the residence drive for his street, but it was too late to stop. The mighty Buick had broken free and was stam- peding. “Oh, my God!” he screamed, swerving away at the last possible moment. Without wavering, Ted steered the car toward the curb, rolling unceremoniously over the lawn, and directly into a concrete birdbath. He felt the impact and heard the scraping knocks of debris under the chassis as the car careened onward. Unfortunately, a row of doomed azaleas lay in his path, and they too were mowed down as he headed for the street, leaving a trail of mangled shrubbery and chunks of cement behind him. “Whew! That wasn’t too bad! They probably won’t even notice,” he thought, congratulating himself on the narrow escape. ‘Thank God I didn’t plow into that garage and do any damage!” The street he wanted was just ahead, and Ted was so pleased with himself that he failed to notice the large array of lawn furniture standing between him and his goal. The Buick rolled on, and aluminum chairs crumpled, crunching loudly beneath its wheels, but Ted didn’t care. He’d done it! He’d made it to the street, and he was still alive, that was all that mattered! Masquerade of Angels 131